Ed sez: Much fun has been made of our quaint, but delightful little city on our quaint and delightful little Island - - Victoria, Vancouver Island, Canada - - and in spite of the fact that D. Grant DeMan himself lives upon our Island "Shangri-la", or as some like to
call it "Lotus Land", he does poke fun at our little city.
The Beasts of Victoria
A Profitable and Tastey Solution
..... by D. Grant DeMan
Algie met a bear. The Bear was Bulgy. The bulge was Algie. - Old children's'
parable. Old cougar in the fountain. No longer lion of the mountain.
"Poor crusty Victoria." Lamented my good friend Dr. Lloyd Bailey,
Baron of Manby and Ravenden. "Indeed, old chap, the city of Sir
James Douglas isn't quite what we're used to. Not up to snuff at
all. In fact Mumsy and I have declined our summer there this
season." He sipped quietly at his gin and tonic.
"So, what you're saying is that dismal weather, abysmal violence
and abundant street muffin proliferation makes you exceeding
uncomfortable." I too, had decided against visiting my usual
haunts.
"Not only that. It seems each little event is celebrated with all
the enthusiasm of a fox facing the hounds. It just doesn't perk.
Quite! Look at the creatures, the brutes of the forest roaming
the streets and being unceremoniously carted away by one official
or another. Won't do. Won't do, old prig."
"A certain absence of ambiance in that, I agree. A lack of
panache."
"Now look at these cheery chaps in Spain. Pamplona. They have
this abundance of nasty enormous bovines. In Victoria they'd open
a balogna factory, and that would be that."
"But not the Spanish."
"No, they show flair. They run those beasts through the streets
goring pedestrians along the pavement helter-skelter. Like
bowells. They make a game of it, a sport as famed as the Wembley
Matches. Great and famous people attend, lucratively spending on
fine hotels and cuisine. That's using your noodle, old swain. The
Spanish are noted for their fiestas you know."
"Not Victoria?"
"Heavens to Manby, no! Dull as a wartime penny. It requires
rejuvenation, old pup. Stimulation. A new game that might well
turn into a world event, like the Nanaimo Bathtub Race, the
Athabaska Wild Boar Barbecue. Or the changing of the Grenadier
Guards."
"Another golf tournament, perhaps?"
"Oh no! Haven't lately been to Bermuda, have you? They have the
market for that. Can you see anyone of note visiting Victoria for
golf. Stifle that notion.
"No, I simply suggest Victorians use what's on hand. There are
carnivores running every-which-way amok in the streets and
squares. I say round the fellows up during the year, and let them
loose down Blanchard or some other narrow walled-off lane. Don't
you see? As in Pamplona, many world adventurers would be ecstatic
to run ahead of them for a photo to show their Old Country chums.
Why my old pal, Lord Afton, would just love the challenge of
prancing down the cobblestones with a large angry cougar ripping
at his trousers or a fierce bear chewing his astronomical bum.
Lady Afton's knickers. Ho, ho, ho."
"You may just have something there, Lord. But isn't that a little
too colorful for Victoria?"
"That's just the point, don't you see? They'd strike committees,
and chat the idea away into their gray mists. You and I both know
that a camel is just a horse built by a committee. Nudge, nudge.
Bob's your uncle.
"But envision the spectacle. During spring, television networks
concentrate on the thrill of the beast roundup, placard-waving
animal-rights people making chains in front of city hall, carried
off to the tune of, 'Save the cat. Save the bear. All hold hands
in our underwear!' Good film at eleven, as they say."
"You know, Lloyd, you just may have a concept there."
"A jolly good one, that. Imagine the world curiosity as the
tension builds? What famed athlete shall get his heiny bitten
this year? And look at the authors clamoring for a front spot,
like Hemmingway in Pamplona. It would most certainly put Victoria
on the must do list of world celebrity. Just think of the front
page news if some lofty movie star or opera diva got consumed on
the spot. Oh, the blood...the tearing and shaking... would fill
television screens for months, and suddenly The Creatures of
Victoria would rank with Cannes and Wimbledon as don't miss
events on one's itinery. However, it shall not come to fruition."
"Never happen?"
"I fear not, dear boy. And more's the pity. Poor Victoria. 'No
guts no glory,' as the Yanks might put it. I'm afraid our savage
animal charge is destined for oblivion, the sullen stoics of
Victoria not being Spanish. Not Spanish at all.
"You're pouring, old nut? I do believe I'm up for another one.
Make it large."
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