dafydd manton
09-04-2010, 11:55 AM
Here be Dragons! Now, if you look up the word Dragon in a dictionary, you will be told that the dragon is a mythical creature. This is a myth. Actually, dragons are very, very clever, and would easily rule the world, only they've got better things to do with their time. In fact, they are so clever, that they have had it put about that they are mythical, so that nobody believes that they exist, and that way they can do precisely as they wish without fear of let or hindrance. There is one creature called a something-or-other dragon, a Kimono Dragon, I think, but actually it isn't a dragon at all, it's a dirty great big lizard. A bit likes those things you used to keep as a kid, only with delusions of grandeur. As the name implies, it comes from Japan,where they believe in dragons anyway, so it's not fooling anyone but itself. The dragon is considered to be a mark of status in Japan, or was that China, but anyway, they have them embroidered on to the traditional garment, which is called a Komodo. This is where we get the word commode from, because if you were walking down the road in Yokohama, and you found a dragon in your path, you could be seriously incommoded. Truly, it is a global village.
Not that global, of course, since you don't often find Samurai in Wales, despite the fact that the Welsh national flag has a dragon on it. Having said that, how long the average Samurai would last on a Saturday night in Cardiff is anyone's guess, and I have no intention of finding out. Not that I have any particular feelings for Samurai warriors, but I too have got more sense than to find myself in Cardiff on any night, especially Saturday.
Dragons are said to breathe fire, but frankly I hae ma doots. The only thing I have ever seen that breathes fire is my mother-in-law, and although she looks very much like a dragon with a perm, the NHS have got her down as human, or at least, very nearly. Mind you, they haven't seen her if I try to turn Heartbeat off, when there's Rugby on the telly, but then, she pays the Licence. Actually, that's not exactly true, it's just that she is of a sufficient vintage that we get our licence for nothing.
Sorry, I seem to have digressed somewhat, but then, Charles Dickens made a living at it, and a particularly good one at that. Pity the poor old lad isn't on royalties, since every single book he ever wrote has been televised at one time or another. Not that he'd have recognised them, mind, but that's not the point. You can't help wondering what he would have thought of the musical Oliver, where old Fagin goes dancing down the road at the end, rather that swinging from a gallows.
The dragon is synonymous, as mentioned earlier, with Wales, and a visit to an international Rugby match will demonstrate the many ways that the dragon can be portrayed. You will see thousands of them, obviously coloured red, as nature intended, and in various forms. The inflatable one is popular, for the simple reason that you can carry half a dozen to the game with you, and still get other passengers in the car, then merely blow them up when you get there. The dragons, that is. This is a logistics decision, because if various people are sharing the car they should give you enough money to cover petrol so that it won't cost you a bean, and may well even off-set the cost of your ticket. The down-side is that if you are driving, you will not be able to drink, and therefore will be the only one with the puff left to blow the dragons up. This is no place to remember Puff the Magic Dragon, since it would be a cheap pun, and this is a serious treatise.
Puff was a dragon in a song in 1963, by Peter Paul and Mary (although Paul's real name was Noel), which was wonderfully innocent, until some half-wit decided that it was laden with references to drugs. Dragons never take drugs, because they don't need to. If the whole world thinks that you are a hallucination, under the influence of some substance you ain't supposed to smoke, you might start to believe yourself that you actually don't exist, when plainly you do, so therefore this proves that dragons really do exist. There's no smoke without fire, you know.
Dragon smoke is actually more common than you would imagine. I don't mean to try and give you the impression that a dragon might be seen with a fag in its mouth, because it never will. What's the point of smoking when you create the smoke in the first place, it would be like cannibalism, never mind the difficulties lighting the thing. You'd feel a bit of a wimp using a cigarette lighter, when you can blow 40-foot flames across the room, and have the wallpaper off in no time. This is why dragon's lairs, or dens, are never wall-papered. If you tried to light your own fag, with abilities like that, you'd burn your own hand, or talons, or whatever you call them. No, what I meant, 140-odd words ago, was that dragons use their own smoke as a form of camouflage. If you have ever visited Snowdonia, and if not, why not, you may well have noticed that the tops of the mountains are often shrouded in mist. Do not be misled, this is not mist, it is actually dragon breath. Not that they are trying to inflate models of humans, because they can't. They keep bursting. No, they cover the tops of the mountains, so that they can play, undisturbed. They Huff and they Puff, and then you and I can't see them - but they're there, all right! Nobody has ever seen a live dragon, except for Ivor The Engine and Jones The Steam, his driver. Plus one or two others who have been smoking things you ain't supposed to, and I wouldn't believe them anyway, so that doesn't count. And me. So, next time you read that something is mythical, ask yourself one or two questions. Be analytical, use logic, that way you may just be able to stop the myth dragging on. Ask any Welsh-speaking Japanese, or Japanese-speaking Welshman - although, of course, you have to remember, they might just be mythical. :sosp:
Not that global, of course, since you don't often find Samurai in Wales, despite the fact that the Welsh national flag has a dragon on it. Having said that, how long the average Samurai would last on a Saturday night in Cardiff is anyone's guess, and I have no intention of finding out. Not that I have any particular feelings for Samurai warriors, but I too have got more sense than to find myself in Cardiff on any night, especially Saturday.
Dragons are said to breathe fire, but frankly I hae ma doots. The only thing I have ever seen that breathes fire is my mother-in-law, and although she looks very much like a dragon with a perm, the NHS have got her down as human, or at least, very nearly. Mind you, they haven't seen her if I try to turn Heartbeat off, when there's Rugby on the telly, but then, she pays the Licence. Actually, that's not exactly true, it's just that she is of a sufficient vintage that we get our licence for nothing.
Sorry, I seem to have digressed somewhat, but then, Charles Dickens made a living at it, and a particularly good one at that. Pity the poor old lad isn't on royalties, since every single book he ever wrote has been televised at one time or another. Not that he'd have recognised them, mind, but that's not the point. You can't help wondering what he would have thought of the musical Oliver, where old Fagin goes dancing down the road at the end, rather that swinging from a gallows.
The dragon is synonymous, as mentioned earlier, with Wales, and a visit to an international Rugby match will demonstrate the many ways that the dragon can be portrayed. You will see thousands of them, obviously coloured red, as nature intended, and in various forms. The inflatable one is popular, for the simple reason that you can carry half a dozen to the game with you, and still get other passengers in the car, then merely blow them up when you get there. The dragons, that is. This is a logistics decision, because if various people are sharing the car they should give you enough money to cover petrol so that it won't cost you a bean, and may well even off-set the cost of your ticket. The down-side is that if you are driving, you will not be able to drink, and therefore will be the only one with the puff left to blow the dragons up. This is no place to remember Puff the Magic Dragon, since it would be a cheap pun, and this is a serious treatise.
Puff was a dragon in a song in 1963, by Peter Paul and Mary (although Paul's real name was Noel), which was wonderfully innocent, until some half-wit decided that it was laden with references to drugs. Dragons never take drugs, because they don't need to. If the whole world thinks that you are a hallucination, under the influence of some substance you ain't supposed to smoke, you might start to believe yourself that you actually don't exist, when plainly you do, so therefore this proves that dragons really do exist. There's no smoke without fire, you know.
Dragon smoke is actually more common than you would imagine. I don't mean to try and give you the impression that a dragon might be seen with a fag in its mouth, because it never will. What's the point of smoking when you create the smoke in the first place, it would be like cannibalism, never mind the difficulties lighting the thing. You'd feel a bit of a wimp using a cigarette lighter, when you can blow 40-foot flames across the room, and have the wallpaper off in no time. This is why dragon's lairs, or dens, are never wall-papered. If you tried to light your own fag, with abilities like that, you'd burn your own hand, or talons, or whatever you call them. No, what I meant, 140-odd words ago, was that dragons use their own smoke as a form of camouflage. If you have ever visited Snowdonia, and if not, why not, you may well have noticed that the tops of the mountains are often shrouded in mist. Do not be misled, this is not mist, it is actually dragon breath. Not that they are trying to inflate models of humans, because they can't. They keep bursting. No, they cover the tops of the mountains, so that they can play, undisturbed. They Huff and they Puff, and then you and I can't see them - but they're there, all right! Nobody has ever seen a live dragon, except for Ivor The Engine and Jones The Steam, his driver. Plus one or two others who have been smoking things you ain't supposed to, and I wouldn't believe them anyway, so that doesn't count. And me. So, next time you read that something is mythical, ask yourself one or two questions. Be analytical, use logic, that way you may just be able to stop the myth dragging on. Ask any Welsh-speaking Japanese, or Japanese-speaking Welshman - although, of course, you have to remember, they might just be mythical. :sosp: