Beware the Ides! foretells the fall Of he who rose to conquer Gaul And lands still further from his home This warrior, this son of Rome. On his return to claim his right A haruspex with second sight Met Caesar by the Senate arch To warn him of the Ides of March. They’d killed an ox and found no spleen An omen that could only mean The Consul should fear for his life As did, Calpurnia, his wife. But Caesar didn’t fear the gods For he had overcome the odds To overshadow mortal men And take his seat in Rome again. So came the day, but nothing passed Until the Senators amassed Fulfilling what was prophesied Thus, on the fifteenth, Caesar died. Of every haruspex, it’s said They earn their living from the dead And though they claim the role of seer It’s often what we overhear
“We just say Ukraine now; they’ve dropped the The,” Laverne gave me the lowdown.
“Who did?”
“The Ukrainians.”
“Don’t you mean Ukrainians?”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said The Ukrainians.”
“Oh, for God’s sake…”
“Why is it I’m only hearing about this now?”
“Try spending less time on TikTok.”
“I enjoy watching eco-tourists run for their lives.”
“Fair enough,” Laverne shrugged.
“So, when did they ditch the The?”
“I believe it was around the same time Kentucky Fried Chicken rebranded as KFC.”
“Do you think their KFCs serve Chicken Kiev?”
“We don’t say that either.”
“What? Chicken?”
“No, Kiev.”
“You’re kidding.”
“We now pronounce it Kyiv, like Steve.”
“Who the hell cares how he says it?”
“Who?”
“Steve Downey.”
“Please tell me you didn’t just say that.”
“And how would the Downeys know Ukrainian anyway? They’re a bunch of redheads.”
“Sweetie, I want you to stop talking,” Laverne took my hand. “This is all the result of transliteration.”
“I thought their flag was pink, blue and white.”
“In the past we had a habit of anglicising names which proved tricky to pronounce and no one really questioned it. Now there’s a bit of a reset happening, that’s all.”
“My stress levels go through the roof every time I have to say anemone.”
“When did you last need to say anemone?”
“Two and a half hours ago.”
“I’m talking about foreign names.”
“Brunhilde.”
“Place names.”
“Melbourne.”
“More foreign than that.”
“Machu Picchu.”
“It’s Bombay becoming Mumbai and Calcutta becoming Kolkata, that sort of thing,” Laverne clarified.
“We weren’t that far off on those two,” I felt I ought to give credit where credit was due.
“My issue isn’t with the consonants so much, as the bloody diphthongs.”
“Your Vietnamese neighbours? What have they done now?”
“Stop it,” Laverne giggled. “Hey, did you know that Kanye’s changed his name as well? Apparently he now goes by Ye. My son told me.”
“Ye?”
“Yup.”
“Maybe it’s short for Yeuch.”
“Or Yikes.”
“I still fail to see the significance.”
“Well, according to Ye himself, ye is the most common word in The Bible.”
“Blessed be the fruit.”
“Oh, there’s more… Ye then enlightened us further by explaining that ye can sometimes mean thee.”
“Which Ukrainians have dropped like a hot potato,” I reminded my friend.
“They dropped a The, not a thee.”
“Be that as it may, I think Ye will find that the most common word in The Bible is, in fact, the.”
“So we’ve circled back on ourselves,” Laverne groaned. “How do we bring this to an end?
I gave my heart to you, my love One February night Invoking all that’s up above I prayed you’d hold it tight. And after we had made romance (for that’s what I still call it) You rose and gave a loving glance Then made off with my wallet. The next day you were seen at lunch With someone I don’t know But looking back, I have a hunch It was with your new beau. I hope the roasted Cornish hen And champagne went down well Before they came right up again And cleared the whole hotel. According to my Visa bill You both then saw a play A great night out is greater still When you don’t have to pay. Despite the slight cost overrun At least I’m not alone For in your haste to kiss and run You left behind your phone. And so, my love, for us it ends As does your victory lap For you’ve just texted all your friends To say you’ve got the clap.
“You owe him one,” I agreed, swiping through a considerable collection of images. “Maybe you should get him something.”
“Like what?”
“Halloween’s coming up.”
“What makes you think he’s into Halloween?”
“Call it a hunch.”
“But I wouldn’t know what to get him.”
“Does he have someone special in his life?”
“Not since he killed all the members of his church group, no.”
“Any hobbies?”
“Skulking among the shadows.”
“I mean, besides that.”
“Photography, I suppose.”
“Then why not get him some lens wipes?”
“I’m sure we can do better than lens wipes,” Laverne frowned.
“Alright, let’s keep going then… would it be fair to describe him as outdoorsy?“
“Yes! And now that I think of it, he could do with a decent winter coat,” she suddenly brightened.
“My neighbours are in a cult if you’re looking for something with a hood.”
“I’ll get back to you on that.”
“Did I mention it’s detachable?”
“It’s just… I don’t want to cause offence.”
“To someone who’s photographing you through your fence,” I felt obliged to remind her.
“I see where you’re coming from.”
“Didn’t he once write that on a CookieGram?”
“Right before I reversed over him in the driveway.”
“Putting all that to one side, what were you doing running naked through the forest at 3am?”
“The dog let the cat out again,” Laverne chuckled. “They’re worse than kids, those two. I should have gotten a fish tank instead. Anyway, enough about me; what’s new with you?”
“I’ve decided I want to give back to society.”
“Oh, God…”
“Now, I know what you’re thinking but this time I’m serious. I’m going to make these next twelve months my My Year of Philanthropy.”
“Well, you’re on your own then because no one’s getting any of my money,” Laverne sniffed.
“I don’t need money; what I need is a project.”
“Why not just join a gym like everyone else?”
“Because until just now I wasn’t aware that I needed to.”
“I’m just thinking back to the incident in the park.”
“That dog should have been leashed.”
“John, you wrestled it for a Tootsie Roll.”
“Which I’d bought.”
“Which you’d dropped.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, there’s a recession on,” I pointed out, dignity still intact.
“Okay. Forget I even mentioned it.”
“Easier said than done.”
“It doesn’t even matter because you’re nice on the inside and that’s what counts. When I was growing up there was a fat family on our street and they were really nice too.”
“Name them. All of them.”
“The dog was called Cupcake, I remember that much.”
“Keep going.”
“My point is, they were just like everyone else.”
“Just not worth knowing,” I addressed the elephant in the room.
“You have the rear molars of a hyena. I’ve watched you crush femurs like they were toothpicks.”
“That’s an exaggeration.”
“No, it isn’t. I’ve seen cleaner kills on Animal Planet.”
“Speaking of which, did you catch it on Monday? It was about these sharks that sleep. I think they were in Mexico. I have never, ever heard of sharks sleeping before.”
“That’s because they don’t,” I was informed.
“Sharks don’t sleep?”
“Nope.”
“Then what were these ones doing?”
“During ratings week they whack a few in the head to make them appear cute and cuddly.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m afraid not,” Laverne shook her head in dismay.
“But that’s barbaric.”
“So is seeing a camera-woman being bitten in half during a live feed. The only thing those sharks were sleeping off was a Grade 3 concussion.”
“Is that what happens on Love Island?”
“Totally different.”
“How so?”
“They’re all brain-damaged to begin with.”
“How do you know so much about concussed sharks?” I was curious.
“I was going to be a marine biologist but back then they didn’t allow women in the Marines.”
Mr Ormsby At Large 