Hans Christian Anderson’s Great Grandchildren

Neal’s Belch no 148 for 2nd Aug, 2004

Several years ago I was walking along my local canal, treading very carefully in case the ice was weak, when I noticed that one of the popcorn vendors who dot the route had switched over to selling biscuits. I was of course intrigued.

Who wouldn’t be?

So I rushed home and did a little investigating on the electro-internetwork and I found out that popcorn is slowly declining in popularity all over the world, due to the increasing concern over the large quantities of salt that paranoid people suspect are being put into everything.

These are the same people who buy a whole bottle of natural water to drink with their lunch. Don’t they realise that water comes from the sea, which is absolutely jam packed with salt? I myself never drink water. I’ve heard rumours about what they put into that stuff. Apparently there’s two atoms of hydrogen and one of oxygen in every single drop. Sometimes more.

Of course, there are some elements of the salt industry who should not be trusted. This is the case in every industry, and we must not allow ourselves to be put off. For instance, some salt manufacturers add sugar and flour to the salt, to bulk it up. Similarly, some sugar manufacturers add salt and flour to their product. And some flour makers lace their flour with sugar. And so on.

Anyway later that day I returned to the frozen canal to finish my walk, which I had abandoned in my excitement over the whole thing. And I noticed that the ice in the area around the biscuit (formerly popcorn) stand, was much firmer that the rest of the ice, obviously because of the absence of salt, which prevents ice from forming.

So we can draw from this that several people are dying every year by slipping on ice that was caused by an absence of popcorn vendors spilling salt all over the place. For the sake of our elderly citizens, I urge you to go out now and support your local popcorn distributor, whoever he or she may be.

It’s probably a he.

The popcorn industry has not yet grown used to the idea of women making popcorn. Which is a shame really because instead they waste valuable time making biscuits, which, as I explained earlier, is leading to premature death among our old people.

You don’t have to actually buy any popcorn by the way, but I do encourage you to walk up to your local popcorn retailer and slap him on the back in a friendly, supportive way. Make sure you don’t accidentally hurt him, because then he’ll be in hospital for a few days and that can’t be good.now can it. Unless of course he commits a serious crime while in hospital, gets a job as a popcorn maker in the prison jobs scheme under which paticipants are not allowed to earn more than one Euro per hour, and produces low cost popcorn for the next eight to sixteen years without parole.

By the way I have no idea what “eight to sixteen years without parole” means, but I’ve heard it on American television programmes so I’m sure it’s fine. I’ve also learnt the phrases “You’re going down, buster”, “Here’s Bob with the twelve day Accuweather forecast”, “I’ll stick this goddam gun up your goddam ass” and “What letter did you learn today, Elmo” on American television, which I think is wonderful.

On Irish television I’ve learned the pharase “It’s six o’clock. We pause now for the Angeles”, which probably doesn’t mean much to you foreigners. It doesn’t have anything to do with popcorn though, so let’s leave it at that and not allow ourselves to stray off topic.

I hate when people stray off topic. Yesterday I was sitting on a bus going to my mother’s house because she makes nice jelly on Sundays, when I noticed that the pedestrian overpass near my home town is still crooked, despite repeated letters having been published about it in the local newspaper.

Apparently the architect designed it that way. It’s supposed to dip in the centre, and there’s nothing to worry about, it’s not going to snap if too many people walk on it. But I’m at least sixteen stone and I’m sure as hell not taking any chances thank you. Especially since it doesn’t get salted during icy weather.

I’d have to carry my own popcorn and make sure to accidentally on purpose spill it in a steady stream in front of me as I walk. And there’s a litter warden in the area who, I understand, likes popcorn too, so I’d have to make sure that he doesn’t eat it up before I walk across the part of the bridge where I’ve spilt the popcorn for my own protection.

There’s also a chance that I might get sued for plaguerism, by the great-grandchildren of Hans Christian Anderson, writer of “Hansel and Gretel” unless I succeed in making it absolutely clear that I am not talking about using the popcorn to find my way back home through the forest. Otherwise I’d have to take a few days off to go to Holland or somewhere for the court case.

Live is so bloody complicated. It really is.