anyway if anyone tries to tell you that you can’t blame the world for not knowing about antisemitism in nazi germany they’re full of shit because all the policies leading up to the final solution were publicized.
one of my favorite articles ever touches on why anne frank is more popular than eli wiesl, and i think that same sentiment applies to why we focus on the goyishe saviors and not the jewish rebels, on the liberation of auschwitz and not the bombing debate
another thing they don’t teach in school is that the warsaw ghetto uprising was not like, jews trying to free themselves, it was jews trying to decide the circumstances of their own deaths. they already knew they were fucked and decided to go out guns blazing. it was in response to notices being posted announcing their imminent deportation to concentration camps
hey hey hey brawl. write the spiderman fic where anti-mutant bigots think jj is one of them because of how he is about spider-man and he experiences no personal insight whatsoever in reaction to this but is so offended he dedicates the front cover of the Bugle to spotlighting the X-Men for like three days straight and peter is keysmash feelings. do iiiiit i want to read.
Because you sent this more than a month after you pitched it, I was briefly like, "This sounds so familiar. I didn't propose this...right...?;;" Anyway I finally assembled myself, here you go.<3
--
The Daily Bugle didn't take walk-ins.
Three men knocked on J. Jonah Jameson's office door. One was young and tall and pale. One was middle-aged, short, and approximately dumpling-shaped. The third had a waxed, curly mustache, which completely distracted from all his other features.
JJJ himself threw open the door and glowered at them. "Who the hell are you people supposed to be?" he barked.
The short one crinkled his eyes up in a winning grin. "We hate people like Spider-Man."
The Daily Bugle didn't take walk-ins...theoretically.
Jonah's forbidding countenance melted at once into perfect amicability. "Well, why didn't you say so? Come in, friends!"
-
Peter sidled into the Bugle bullpen. He did not strictly work there right then, but no one ever revoked his keycard.
He wove his way to Betty Brant's desk and stole the remains of her bagel off her plate. "What's the news, beautiful?"
Betty predicted her old ex's carb crimes and waved a hand around to intercept him, but missed completely because her gaze was fixed on her boss's office door, her eyes alight as she worried the end of her pen distractedly between her teeth.
"Jonah's with some guys," she said. "I'm pretty sure they're HAM."
"Jonah's finally getting better deli meat for the breakroom?" Why did that sound familiar?
Betty gestured abstractly with the pen. "Not ham,like meat. HAM, like meatheads. It's one of those armchair extremist movements Twitter keeps pretending they don't know how to ban."
"That narrows it down."
"It's short for... Rats. Something militia?"
Peter twitched abortively for the door.
Betty reached over and smacked his arm without taking her eyes off Jonah's office. "Honestly, Peter," she said, "you haven't changed since we were teenagers. It's not a real militia. Don't go anywhere."
He would sense it if they were armed, right? Right?
-
Jonah stuck a cigar in his mouth. He chewed it. He was trying to quit.
"--so nice to see a man in your position who cares about the important things," the short one was saying. He seemed to be the main mouthpiece.
Jonah's mustache quivered pleasantly.
"About upholding accountability for people dragging down our community."
"Yeah, yeah," agreed Jonah, succumbing to autopilot and lighting a preemptive celebratory cigar.
"People who don't know what 'neighborhood' means."
"EXACTLY," exclaimed Jonah, smacking his hand on his desk.
-
Betty swiped out of the search engine on her phone. "Okay, it stands for 'Humans Against Mutants'," she said. "Sorry, I was remembering a sarcastic nickname." She fussed with the phone a little more and then put it down.
Right, right, Peter remembered why it was familiar now. He had punched some of them. Shoulda guessed.
He fixed his own hard glare on Jonah's silent door, still feeling twitchy even though his spider-sense stayed silent. "Betty," he said. "Darling Betty. Why are you giving me this news like a gift? Why is this a good thing?"
Betty finally turned to him and smiled in a mischievous way that reminded Peter of gleefully murderous little housecats.
She said, "You don't want to see what happens once Jonah figures out what their angle is?"
-
"I would love to collaborate with you gentlemen," said Jonah, shaking hands vigorously and indiscriminately. "You're an upright, civic-minded bunch, I can tell." He gestured his good cigar box at them. The younger one took one. Jonah spread his arms wide, biting off a half-manic grin. "I think this is the start of a beautiful partnership. Where do you want to start?" He took a cheerful puff of his not-for-lighting cigar.
"Well, we're especially focused on the mutant threat," said the short one.
Jonah choked on his inhale and started coughing around the cigar.
"Public opinion about them is very in their favor these days," he continued obliviously. "It's just disgusting. Dangerous. But your Spider-Man platform is the perfect jumping-off point. Start with one target and then ease people in from there."
"Boiling frogs," nodded the mustache sagely.
Jonah reached over to his 'decorative' ashtray and ground out his cigar with force. His lips peeled back to reveal crooked tombstone teeth. He inhaled.
-
Robbie walked over to Betty's desk and knocked on it, two short knuckle taps. "What are you two standing around gawping at?" he asked. "Peter, didn't I fire you?"
"Can't write about bloodshed you don't watch," said Betty. "It's a good day in the office, Mr. Robertson."
"...And why is that?" inquired Robbie, who loved Betty like a daughter and knew her very well, with trepidation.
"Wait for it," said Betty.
With the decisive violence of an erupting volcano, there was a blast of raw sound from behind the office door that was only just distinguishable as a voice everyone in the building was familiar with screaming: "W H A T ?"
Robbie scrunched up his face and braced himself against the desk like the sound had had the hair-ruffling gale force it seemed it must have. "...Why is that good, Miss Brant."
Betty twirled her pen on her fingertips and beamed up at him, squinching her eyes. "He isn't mad at us!"
Jonah's door slammed open, the knob bouncing off the abused brass wall guard. "Out, out!" bellowed Jonah, pursuing his visitors waving both arms, one of which was holding an empty mug that read ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ's ᴍᴏsᴛ ʙᴏss like a club. "Out, out of my office, out of my building, out! Hell, leave the state while you're at it! I used to be the mayor of this town! I still have connections!"
"I thought--" sputtered the short one. Jonah brandished the mug at him and he skipped out of the way. "With your vigilante-combatting crusade-- Surely you--" He panted. "You must see that our priorities--"
"I don't hate Spider-Man because he has powers!" shouted Jonah, "I hate him because he's a--"
"Wow," Peter said about a minute into the following deluge. "That's not fit for print."
"You want mutants in my paper so badly!?" finished Jonah, backing the little posse up against the exit. "I'll run nothing but mutants for weeks! --You, wait!"
This last was directed at the tall one, who was at the back of the group. Before he could scurry out of the room Jonah seized him by one shoulder, spun him around, and (juggling the mug) reached into his shirt pocket and plucked out his gifted cigar.
He dropped it in the mug and then pushed the man out the door. He kicked it shut, visibly aiming to clip any lingering ankles.
"Beautiful," said Betty. She tapped her phone to wake it, revealing that it was already open to a contact labeled "Sid S. (Bugle Security)". She hit the call button.
"I'm already doing it!" chirped Betty, waving at him with her phone hand.
"Wh-- Well, good! The rest of you layabouts, take a note of Miss Brant's work ethic!"
Betty mugged a little smugly.
Peter had drifted over to a street-facing window and was looking down out of it, forehead practically touching the glass.
"Bigots!" Jonah was muttering, pacing back and forth strangling the air with his hands. "Hate groups! Trying to use my editorials as propaganda! Me! J. Jonah Jameson!" He twisted his grip on nothing viciously. "As if I would allow that! As if I would think like that! Nobody without their head so deep underground it's coming up in Australia would believe that of me! I'm not... I... ...Do people...really think...I'm like that?"
Silence.
Someone shuffled papers. The sound carried.
Jonah inhaled, deep and angry, then let the breath out as a sigh, his shoulders slumping. The room tensed further in a way it hadn't when it had seemed like he was about to yell.
For a moment, with his posture crumpling, Jonah came dangerously close to looking his age.
Then he straightened back up, recovering his usual vim. "Well, we'll just see what they think this time next month! That's a good idea--somebody put up a comparative poll on the website. Now, speaking of layabouts--" He swiveled his head back and forth, scouring the bullpen. "Wait, where's Parker?"
"He left," supplied Betty. "Just now. Tore out of the room like he thought you were going to hit him."
Jonah huffed. "That punk! Some people just don't know how to act."
-
"What a bust!" the short man said. He kicked a piece of trash viciously off the sidewalk in front of the Bugle building and into the road. "This city is crawling with pamphlet-hawking, soy-drinking, gene sympathizers."
"There's no hope for mutie-lovers," grumbled the tall one.
"Eyyy-men," sighed the one with the mustache.
"Hey," said a new voice, coming from directly overhead.
They looked up.
Blank white lens eyes greeted them.
"We're nonviolent," said the squat one.
"Bully for you," said Spider-Man. "I'm not."
-
"Interviews!" barked Jonah. "Aren't we supposed to not talk over people? Amplify voices?"
"Suppose we are," said Robbie.
"WELL, SOMEBODY FIND ME SOMETHING TO AMPLIFY!"
"Oh, really?" Betty was saying into her phone. "No, just let him have them. Past the doors is public property; we aren't liable." She hung up, satisfied.
"--and if he isn't back here by the time I've set one up I'll get pictures from Grant, and next time he darkens my doorstep I'll mail him to the Globe in a giftwrapped box!"
-
"Well, fellas," said Spider-Man, dusting off his hands, "I'm not sure you've brought me around to the whole 'path of nonviolence' thing. But I've never been very zen. Maybe next time."
He leapt up onto the wall and started creeping around to the back of the building. He had had to bolt down two floors to find an unobserved window to jump out of. Totally worth it. "Honestly," he said. "Some people just don't know how to act."
-
Jonah paced around in an even higher dudgeon than his usual. "Somebody get me a mutant!" he barked. "Why haven't we got any mutants in this room!?"
"Good question," muttered Robbie.
"I had better not hear that we don't have any in the whole building!"
"That's oddly noble," said Glory, who had persisted in picking at the assignment she had open on her laptop at her desk right by Jonah's door through the whole ruckus.
"If I consult somebody who's not already salaried I'll have to PAY them!"
"Aaaaand there it is."
"Do something about it! Start a new hiring program!"
"We have hiring programs now?" asked Peter.
"WHOA, where did you come from," said Betty, startling hard.
Peter shrugged with the arm that wasn't braced on Betty's desk. His hair was mussed and his face was a little flushed. "I had to call my aunt," he said. "For an emergency...fashion consultation. For her. Not me. I think my sense of style is great, don't you?"
"No comment. Do you remember when we met and you wore yellow vests every single day?"
"That is a blistering lack of comment."
"I didn't say I didn't like the yellow vests. Whatever happened to them?"
"I think someone I dated after you might have burned them. Just shows you have superior taste."
"MJ?"
"I think it might have been Felicia.... Have you met Felicia?"
"It's not right!" Jonah continued to rant in the office foreground. "Ostracizing people just because they have powers! It's not right!"
Peter cupped his hands around his mouth and called over, "Gee, does that mean you're going to go easier on the old wallcrawler?" Then he jammed his fingers into his ears.
"SPIDER-MAN GOES OUT EVERY DAY OF HIS OWN VOLITION AND--"
Betty whapped Peter on the arm.
"--A PEST, WHO GOES WHERE HE IS NEITHER WANTED NOR NEEDED-- Wait, Parker?" Jonah did enough of a double take to finally stop pacing. "Why is it you're never here when I want you--"
"I don't work here," said Peter.
"--but the walls spit you out whenever there's an opportunity for a smart comment-- Huh? Well why the hell are you here if you don't work for me!?"
"Can't I drop in to visit my first love, and, frankly, the only woman I've ever--"
"Aren't you back with MJ again?" interrupted Betty.
"While she's on the clock," said Jonah, "no, you cannot."
"Oh, shame," said Peter. "In that case, my rates have increased by twenty percent."
Jonah spluttered. "In my eye they have--!"
"Fifteen."
"Five and I'll send May a gift basket.'
"Make it an edible arrangement and we've got a deal."
They shook on it. Betty rolled her eyes fondly between them.
Jonah plunked his ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ's ᴍᴏsᴛ ʙᴏss mug down on Betty's desk, fished the cigar out of it, and jammed it between his teeth, unlit.
"I am not a bigot, Parker," he chewed out around it.
"No, sir."
"I am not always ahead of the times, but I am a fair man."
"It's true, sir."
"And if people don't see that, I'll just make them see!" He slammed his fist on Betty's desk. "So I want PICTURES! PICTURES OF X-MEN!"
"....It just doesn't sound right...." muttered Peter. Betty shook her head.
"And if that's not close enough to your specialty, then I don't even know why I keep you around! --Not," he added, "that the X-Men and all the other X-people are anything like that Spider-Man!"
"Oooof course not," said Peter.
"But they've got to be the same kind of tricky shot!"
"So you admit I take tricky shots."
"WHY DO YOU THINK I PAY YOU SO MUCH, HUH?"
"I don't think you--"
"Parker!"
"Alright, alright."
Jonah thrust out his hand, expression a picture. "You'd better actually have something good for me after all this haggling."
"Of course!" said Peter, waving his hands in a very unconvincing reassuring/defensive combo motion. "Just hold that pose while I get a flash drive made up."
Jonah's mustache flexed. "How long will that take?"
"Couple hours?"
Jonah inhaled preexplosively.
"Here," said Betty, turning her laptop around and pushing it at Peter. "Just get them off the cloud."
Peter stared at her. He blinked once, slowly. "I'm not...in the cloud?
"The camera I gave you last winter backs up automatically to the cloud. I set it up before I gave it to you because I knew you wouldn't. I wrote the account information in the card and told you to change the password. Did you even look at the card?"
Peter began to look alarmed. "It does?"
-
After several minutes of Betty reassuring him he wasn't going to be in a data leak ("Honestly, what's in your camera roll? State secrets? Nudes?"), Peter hunched over and started picking at the keyboard. "You're in luck," he said. "Tuesday the original lineup took some newbies out and closed a portal to the prehistoric era out in Hamilton."
"And you were in Hamilton?" put in Betty. "With your camera?"
"My rent just went up," said Peter. "Thing is, JJ, they were teaming up with--"
"Son," interrupted Jonah, "I've done so much for you. I value you as an employee--as family even. Now, for me: Don't say Spider-Man."
"...Bernie Sanders."
Jonah sighed and ran his hands down his face. Several desks over, Robbie stifled a laugh into his fist in a passable impression of a cough.
Leaving one hand over his eyes, Jonah pointed at Betty's laptop. "Show me the damn pictures, Parker."
-
"Not bad...." gruffed Jonah, clicking through the pictures rapidly. "It's good the original five are there--they're classic, reliable, people are used to them capturing their imaginations.... --Do people call them that? The Oh-Five."
"Wow, you really have no mutant opinions," marveled Peter. "Or mutant thoughts. Your head is just empty, like a flower vase."
"Cut the sass, Parker," Jonah said perfunctorily.
"Seriously, don't you run a newspaper?"
"It would be perfect," said Jonah, mercilessly changing the subject, "if Spider-Man weren't in all the good photos."
"Look here, bossman, normally you like that," said Peter. "Demand it, even. Seems like you're cursing your own Pavlovian conditioning."
"We can edit him out," muttered Jonah, ignoring him, still clicking the mouse pad with unnecessary gusto. "Maybe he was attacking them. What do you think, team? 'Vigilante Pesters Helpful Citizens'."
"Boy," said Peter under his breath as Jonah straightened up. He fought to hold a sour expression, and failed. "Some things never change."
Jonah smacked Betty's desk decisively. (She tried to nudge his hand off with the back of her pen.) "But I still need somebody to talk to--a personal account to write out in lights!"
"Jonah," said Robbie moderatingly.
"STATISTICALLY," projected Jonah, who was difficult to moderate, "I KNOW THERE HAS GOT TO BE A MUTANT ON THE PREMISES, SO COUGH THEM UP! THIS IS A HUNT, PEOPLE."
"I cannot imagine why people would think you might be willing to participate in some sort of minority witch hunt," drawled Kate.
"Isn't Beatrice down in Accounting a mutant?" offered Betty.
"I didn't know you were a proponent of hum-- sentient sacrifice, Bets," said Peter.
"You are no better than me," said Betty.
"..."
"She quit last month," said Robbie. "Moving to Florida to be closer to her mother."
"Oh, good for her," said Glory.
"Florida," said Peter distrustfully. Jonah nodded.
Jeff from HR, who did not work in the bullpen but was 23 and as such had been drafted by one of the editors to help her fix a problem with her e-mail and had been there for most of the morning, slowly raised his hand. "I'm a mutant," he said. "Sir."
Jonah's full attention, which was a terrible thing to bear, shifted to focus on him. Jeff's hand drifted downward, and he looked at it like he was second-guessing the body language choice.
"That's wonderful, my boy!" exclaimed Jonah, suddenly overflowing with powerful avuncular energy.
"Ummm," said Jeff from HR. "Thank you."
"Wonderful, stupendous," insisted Jonah. "What do you do?" He fluttered his hands at Jeff. "What's your--special thing?"
Jeff from HR, in less than one second, visibly considered how verbose just the cliff notes on the topic of asking mutants about their powers in a PC way were and discarded the idea of trying to convey them. "I can turn my fingers into French fries, sir."
"...What?"
"French fries. I can generate French fries out of my hands, sir."
"Like...a McDonald's?"
"Homestyle, sir."
Jonah performed a contemplative chewing motion that made his mustache flutter. "...Do you want to be in the paper?"
"Not at all, sir."
"Understandable, kid. Understandable."
-
"God," said Peter, leaning against the wall with his arms folded to watch as Jonah dragged Jeff from HR with him back to the conversation about page layouts he had put on pause to be bothered by his photographer, shadowboxing the ethics of hiring him as a consultant en route. "For once Jonah is running on spite in the right direction."
"Now, Pete," said Robbie, who had likewise stepped back until he was reactivated by an impending major ethics violation, "you know he does that more often than not. Otherwise we wouldn't all still be here."
"...Yeah," admitted Peter. ("The photos need to be bigger," insisted Jonah. "Really use the wing guy to frame the others--") "I do know that."
He fished around in his jacket and got out his phone.
-
"Do you have one of those little flags that look like tropical drinks?" Jonah was asking.
Glory abortively started to raise her hand to cover up the subtle bi triangle pin on her hat band and then lowered it.
"Being a mutant isn't a sexuality, Jonah," said Kate.
Jeff from HR coughed into his fist. "There is a flag," he said.
They looked at him.
"Other things have flags," he said.
"Ha!" said Jonah, pointing at Kate triumphantly.
-
"Who are you texting?" asked Robbie.
Peter's head was bowed over his phone, typing something. He tapped things out with one index finger at a bizarre speed that could not reasonably be called hunt and peck.
"No one," he said. The contact name read: SCOTTY BOY. The last two messages were "Lol, you're in luck," (on the left) and "Don't say 'lol,' what are you, 12?" (on the right). He raised his head to address Jonah, pocketing his phone. "Hey, you still shopping for mutants? If I get you a good one, will I get a commission?"
Jonah swiveled in the ergonomic chair he had commandeered from Kate when she stood up. Once it was facing the right direction he leaned forward forebodingly. "Now, Parker," he said. "I might not be on the ball all the time, but even I know not to hawk this 'one of the good ones' horsesh--"
"NO," interrupted Peter, "I mean-- Not like-- I meant famous, if I can pull in a--"
There was a knock on the outside of the window.
Most of the rabble surrounding Jonah silenced. Betty reached into her purse, gripped something inside of it, and then left her hand there. The action movie gun clicking sound Peter thought he heard was almost definitely imaginary. They were on the highest floor.
"--An X-Man," finished Peter.
Outside the window, a woman in a green body suit, masses of red hair pulsing around her in a telekinetic breeze, raised her hand and twiddled her fingers in a little wave.
Jeff from HR unsubtly sunk down behind a desk.
-
After gibbering a demand that "Everyone stop gibbering, someone let the poor woman in" and eventually giving Jean a polite hand inside, Jonah looked back and forth between her and Peter.
"How do you two...know each other," he asked.
"We're in the same pilates class," said Peter.
"He has a deep, inexplicable bond with my boyfriend," Jean said at the same time.
They looked at each other.
"...Okay," said Jonah eventually, deciding he did not want to know about it if his freelancer had had a threesome with Phoenix and Cyclops.
-
After overcoming the awkwardness of introductions, Jean assumed a businesslike patter out of sync with her dramatic entrance. Peter extricated himself back to the noncombat zone with the nonchalant speed of a man who was hiding something.
"Bets," said Peter.
Betty was back to staring from her desk. "Yes, Pete?"
"Are we about to become the most pro-mutant news outlet in New York?"
Betty worried the end of her pen some more. "I rather suspect it."
"Hell, I rather expect it," cut in Robbie, stepping up behind them and joining their huddle. "Might even swap news outlet with employer."
"--run organizations," Jean was saying while Jonah watched her perched on a desk in a Thinker pose and waved at Glory to take notes. "I can put you in touch with some of our school to work programs."
Robbie ran his hands down his face, looking tired. "There's so much to do," he said. "And always so much to learn, before you can do any of it. I can't claim the high ground on this one--I hadn't noticed we hadn't taken a clear enough stance on this either. It's impossible to stay on top of all of it. ...But we're journalists. We have to keep trying."
"Is that why you stick around?" Peter asked. "...Sir?"
Robbie snorted. "You asking if I never cut the apron strings for long because Jonah tries so hard? Maybe among other things. Don't get too cheeky, Parker."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
"He always tries," repeated Robbie. "Now if only he would just let go of his vendetta with--"
"--that rat, Spider-Man?"
Jean pursed her lips and tipped her head to consider whatever character defamation Jonah had asked her to confirm. "He is slightly less funny than he thinks he is," she conceded. "Which is much more annoying than you'd think it would be."
Peter made a drain unclogging noise. Robbie pointedly did not look at him.
"She's not wrong," muttered Betty, whose attention was rapt on the exciting part of the room and as such missed any fine nuances being brandished beside her.
Peter made the noise again.
Jean looked over and stuck her tongue out at him.
-
JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy
STORY TIME, PEOPLE. I FEARED FOR MY LIFE OR AT LEAST MY DIGNITY AT WORK TODAY
(view all replies)
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JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy
i'm wearing my worksona rait. i physically cannot stop saying "sir". i think i said sir 47 different times out of sheer social what the hell
YBY Call Me @belovedssdarling
i don't think you have a worksona i think you;re a genuinely boring person
JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy
okay wow.
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JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy
When i say i hid behind a desk i wish i was exagerating for comedy. but.
JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy
"wow jeffavorite you hid from marvel girl? you must really be a radical!" no she's just really tall OK
JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy
Also once i met an actor i worshipped and his personality didnt hold up. i cant let that happen again. i'm traumatized
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JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy
The effort it took to not say "yeah but it does look like a pride flag probably because every single xman is some kind of gay"
JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy
god
JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy
he immediately asked me what my deal was and i was so overwhelmed by the sheer ... yeah that i didn't tell him youre not supposed to ask that... i need to go back in there before he publishes something don't i
JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy
hes a nice very loud old man i cant let the word choice nitpickers have him
JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy
fuck
JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy
he's a coot but like i get it now. that's my coot.
JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy
i'm gonna see if i can get him to wear a magneto was right pin
-
A week later, Peter flopped face first into bed. There was a newspaper clutched in his hand which if uncrumpled would have read "Iɴᴛᴏʟᴇʀᴀɴᴛ Cᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇs ᴛʜᴇ REAL Mᴜᴛᴀɴᴛ Pʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ".
"Awwwwwwwww, Tiger," cooed Mary Jane from where she was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. She put down the script she was looking over. "Are you feeling cherished?"
"Whamph?" said Peter into the bedsheet. "No. By Jonah? No. Why? He's not cherishing me."
MJ patted him consolingly on the back, snickering.
after many years, i’ve finally figured out that it’s best to establish you’re a person filled with love whose political motives are based in radical compassion. and THEN you use the word ‘anarchist.’
helloooo the fall hit STUPIDLY hard for me, as someone politically conscious who lives in the general area being referred to in the song. so here's a little analysis of what the song is about from a local pov, bc you probably... won't get it if you're not from around here
Under the weight of a broken nose
It's not that simple but he won't seem to notice
There must be more to this
So leave those sinker states and
Let's book a holiday
We're painting all the counties in blue
'Cause we're already boring
And we're already hoarding
What else have we got left to accrue?
this part opens by talking about the wealthy who are growing apathetic with life. they book holidays, travelling aimlessly - they're already hoarding wealth to the point that they've run out of things to do with it. they've convinced their local areas to continue to vote for the conservatives ("painting all the counties in blue") because it benefits them - it's worth noting that most counties around here were historically very left wing, but in recent years they've fallen hard for propaganda. they're now bored of those areas having sucked all the money out of them, they're wondering what else they can do to get more money, that's all they devote their lives to.
And the ramblers will say:
"It's got a marvelous view"
But we don't know how many lives it took, no
Thеy'll never know what you knew
the "ramblers" here are referring to walkers in the area - the song specifies the pennines later. the pennines are a very hilly part of central england which attracts a lot of people to come here on walks, we also have a lot of old country homes. the people walking around just look at these old houses and think how lovely they are, how lucky someone must be to own one, without thinking about the suffering of the poor required for anyone to acquire enough wealth to own one.
And wе're so calm but we're (fucking scared, fucking scared)
And we're so calm but we're (fucking scared, fucking scared)
And we're so calm but we're (fucking scared, fucking scared)
And we're so calm but we're fucking scared of people like you
this could be referring to a few things, but my personal interpretation is that contrary to the civilised front the rich put up, they're terrified of what the rest of us could do if they ever fully achieved class consciousness. they don't want to lose their wealth. we all know how the rich are infamously stingy, right? they're not gonna give that up. they're scared.
Under the weight of some Sertraline
A couple Prozacs and now I'm pumping dopamine
There must be more to this
We've got a country house now
Old dog has been put down now
It's nice to be your entry
Custom licence plate
On our Audi R8
How many grocers does one county need?
again, they're bored. they're on antidepressants and feeling apathetic, they don't know what more they can do with their lives. they've got one of those country houses, they've got a nice car with a custom registration. the final line really shows the disparity between the wealthy and the rest of us: it is not at all common to see greengrocers' in most of the UK, only supermarkets, and if you do they're expensive as hell. so for somebody to complain about there being too many greengrocers in one area? they are definitely out of touch.
And the ramblers will say:
"It's still a marvellous view"
But the treadmill still loops
Your hedonic misuse
ohh yes. my favourite part. the hedonic treadmill refers to how even after experiencing a series of catastrophies, humanity will inherently adapt to some level of normalcy and content (like how we all just... got used to there being a global pandemic). the ramblers can't bring themselves to care no matter how the rich continue to fuck them over, they just continue to think "what a lovely view, i'd love to be able to afford that one day". and of course "hedonic misuse" also doubles to referring to how malicious the rich are, how they're wasting their money on these frivolous things like in the previous verse when they could be helping.
So come on, one and all to see the apathy
The rings of graced dead souls that fill the tapestry
many of these country homes are even open to look around as tourists! come on in, have a look at how they're squandering your money. how many people have died in poverty to get these people to where they are today, and how they're now nothing more than pretty ornaments for the rich to show off.
I look to all of you and see a different fucking species
Aspiration for a different destination to me
the rich don't even see us as human, especially those of us who don't aspire to the same level of wealth as them.
Across the Pennines, thin blue line and the night for The Fall
the pennines are directly named here. "thin blue line" has several connotations. firstly i'm pretty sure you can see the sea from some of the hills in the pennines, it might also be referring to the trails marked on maps. but of course "thin blue line" also refers to defence of the police in america, a cause which is often backed by the wealthy, because cops keep the wealthy in power. cops prevent "the fall" - the downfall of the rich. they're not on our side.
Would do something, if it wasn't also half my fault
maybe some of them are self aware! but they don't do anything. they've contributed to this and they're so obsessed with maintaining their wealth that they're not going to give up now. the whole "well i would do something, but [excuse]" is also very in line with the running theme of apathy in the song. anything to avoid helping the poor.
'Cause I'm so high, my brain can't even look at The Fall
And when you've reached the top there's nowhere else to go but-
finally, another really nice double meaning. it can refer to literally climbing the hills of the pennines, but also the fact that the rich are so obsessed with building their wealth that they lose sight of everything else. they can't even see their own downfall coming because they don't think about the common people, we're just insects to them. but eventually that breaking point will come, and there's nowhere left for them to go but down.
oh i just wanted to add something i picked up on in another post (i lost it but i'll link it when i find it): the UK's wealth gap is very much split between the south (typically richer, higher cost of living, where the "posh" people live) and the north (the 'common' people who are usually viewed as poor and uneducated, we're much less well-off than the south as a whole). the pennines are in central england and span a good length of the country, so they're a good way of symbolising the wealth gap - "across the pennines", how different things are either side - but also a physical representation, the rich really do buy these expensive old homes as flexes of wealth. half the time they then spend an even more ridiculous amount renovating those houses, if they do intend to live in them.
Just as another note about this, and the “ramblers” - so many small towns and villages in the picturesque parts of England aren’t places that people live any more. All the ‘charming little cottages’ where the rural poor used to live are now second homes for the moderately wealthy, or holiday properties rented out to the comfortably middle class. They are completely unaffordable to the locals. Visually, nothing has changed, so that “the ramblers” can come and stay in the houses where people used to live, and coo over the stunning views from which the inconvenient poor people have been removed.
However, as none of these people actually live there (except the ultra wealthy in the stately homes) the villages undergo a slow death - the shops, grocers, pubs closing and the bus routes stopping - further starving the locals out, as there is no work or amenities, while the new inhabitants can afford to drive as far as they need to, because “how many grocers does one county need any way?”
(I also wonder if the “how many lives” that the view took is a reference to both the mining history of the Pennines - a lot of England’s ‘charming’ landscapes are post-industrial - and enclosure, but possibly those are slightly outside of the scope of the song.)
gonna be honest i have no clue what this means right now. i'm thinking it means grey stencil wallpaper but i couldn't tell you more than that currently other than it once again makes me think of the rich buying up old houses and modernising them (making them horrendously boring in the process but also driving up the prices even further and wasting even more money)
Across the Pennines there's a thin blue line, a knife and a mall
THIS MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE THAN WHAT GENIUS HAD. the thin blue line and the knife are about how on the other side of the pennines, the poorer area of the country, crime is rampant because of poverty. there aren't grocers, just cheap shopping malls. everyone is poor and knife crime is common. whereas in these rich neighbourhoods with the greengrocers, the police are practically just a formality.
I would do something if it wasn't all so effortful
this is basically the same meaning as what i had originally, about apathy and making excuses to not help, about the rich being lazy and content to rest on their laurels.
helloooo the fall hit STUPIDLY hard for me, as someone politically conscious who lives in the general area being referred to in the song. so here's a little analysis of what the song is about from a local pov, bc you probably... won't get it if you're not from around here
Under the weight of a broken nose
It's not that simple but he won't seem to notice
There must be more to this
So leave those sinker states and
Let's book a holiday
We're painting all the counties in blue
'Cause we're already boring
And we're already hoarding
What else have we got left to accrue?
this part opens by talking about the wealthy who are growing apathetic with life. they book holidays, travelling aimlessly - they're already hoarding wealth to the point that they've run out of things to do with it. they've convinced their local areas to continue to vote for the conservatives ("painting all the counties in blue") because it benefits them - it's worth noting that most counties around here were historically very left wing, but in recent years they've fallen hard for propaganda. they're now bored of those areas having sucked all the money out of them, they're wondering what else they can do to get more money, that's all they devote their lives to.
And the ramblers will say:
"It's got a marvelous view"
But we don't know how many lives it took, no
Thеy'll never know what you knew
the "ramblers" here are referring to walkers in the area - the song specifies the pennines later. the pennines are a very hilly part of central england which attracts a lot of people to come here on walks, we also have a lot of old country homes. the people walking around just look at these old houses and think how lovely they are, how lucky someone must be to own one, without thinking about the suffering of the poor required for anyone to acquire enough wealth to own one.
And wе're so calm but we're (fucking scared, fucking scared)
And we're so calm but we're (fucking scared, fucking scared)
And we're so calm but we're (fucking scared, fucking scared)
And we're so calm but we're fucking scared of people like you
this could be referring to a few things, but my personal interpretation is that contrary to the civilised front the rich put up, they're terrified of what the rest of us could do if they ever fully achieved class consciousness. they don't want to lose their wealth. we all know how the rich are infamously stingy, right? they're not gonna give that up. they're scared.
Under the weight of some Sertraline
A couple Prozacs and now I'm pumping dopamine
There must be more to this
We've got a country house now
Old dog has been put down now
It's nice to be your entry
Custom licence plate
On our Audi R8
How many grocers does one county need?
again, they're bored. they're on antidepressants and feeling apathetic, they don't know what more they can do with their lives. they've got one of those country houses, they've got a nice car with a custom registration. the final line really shows the disparity between the wealthy and the rest of us: it is not at all common to see greengrocers' in most of the UK, only supermarkets, and if you do they're expensive as hell. so for somebody to complain about there being too many greengrocers in one area? they are definitely out of touch.
And the ramblers will say:
"It's still a marvellous view"
But the treadmill still loops
Your hedonic misuse
ohh yes. my favourite part. the hedonic treadmill refers to how even after experiencing a series of catastrophies, humanity will inherently adapt to some level of normalcy and content (like how we all just... got used to there being a global pandemic). the ramblers can't bring themselves to care no matter how the rich continue to fuck them over, they just continue to think "what a lovely view, i'd love to be able to afford that one day". and of course "hedonic misuse" also doubles to referring to how malicious the rich are, how they're wasting their money on these frivolous things like in the previous verse when they could be helping.
So come on, one and all to see the apathy
The rings of graced dead souls that fill the tapestry
many of these country homes are even open to look around as tourists! come on in, have a look at how they're squandering your money. how many people have died in poverty to get these people to where they are today, and how they're now nothing more than pretty ornaments for the rich to show off.
I look to all of you and see a different fucking species
Aspiration for a different destination to me
the rich don't even see us as human, especially those of us who don't aspire to the same level of wealth as them.
Across the Pennines, thin blue line and the night for The Fall
the pennines are directly named here. "thin blue line" has several connotations. firstly i'm pretty sure you can see the sea from some of the hills in the pennines, it might also be referring to the trails marked on maps. but of course "thin blue line" also refers to defence of the police in america, a cause which is often backed by the wealthy, because cops keep the wealthy in power. cops prevent "the fall" - the downfall of the rich. they're not on our side.
Would do something, if it wasn't also half my fault
maybe some of them are self aware! but they don't do anything. they've contributed to this and they're so obsessed with maintaining their wealth that they're not going to give up now. the whole "well i would do something, but [excuse]" is also very in line with the running theme of apathy in the song. anything to avoid helping the poor.
'Cause I'm so high, my brain can't even look at The Fall
And when you've reached the top there's nowhere else to go but-
finally, another really nice double meaning. it can refer to literally climbing the hills of the pennines, but also the fact that the rich are so obsessed with building their wealth that they lose sight of everything else. they can't even see their own downfall coming because they don't think about the common people, we're just insects to them. but eventually that breaking point will come, and there's nowhere left for them to go but down.
1. Mitski / 2. X / 3. Florence + the machine / 5. Mary Oliver / 6. X / 7. Wendy Cope / 8. X / 9. Mitski / 10. David Taylor / 11. Patrick Rothfuss / 12. X / 13. Taylor Swift / 14. Stephen Chbosky / 15. Troy (2004) / 16. Anne Carson.
- anything related to crouching. slowly going up to someone while crouching to be sneaky. spam crouching in “friend?? friend!!” crouching and looking down because you’re sad :(
- punching up in the air enthusiastically like “hey let’s go!!” punching the blocks underneath you rapidly as if moving your hands around in conversation. affectionately punching other players like you would pull someone’s ear.
- i dunno if this is just my group but full netherite players criting each other with axes and swords because it barely does any damage and it’s fun
- aggressive spinning to goof off
- almost-but-not eating something to make obnoxious noises
- that thing streamers/youtubers do when you can tell they’re staring at themselves in f5 to talk to an audience
- also, when you can TELL someone has paused to look at you in optifine zoom
- forcing yourself into swim/fly mode on land for maximum silly mode.
- waiting for someone to find where you are so you’re like. in a body of water going straight up and down with a riptide trident until they do. or just flying up and down with elytra
- getting in a boat on land and spinning in circles like “hey I’m bored let’s go”
- slowly swapping out tools either as a threat, or to dramatically reveal what item you have
- putting armor on as a threat, or taking it off as a “I’m relaxed” thing
- playing hot potato with a junk item neither player wants and chasing each other around with it
- i just think running around with a loaded crossbow out is really funny. you look like an oblivion npc
- loading up a trident throw but Not letting it go and holding it back as a threat
- rapidly flicking levers/opening chests/pressing buttons/etc to annoy the other person, especially while they’re talking
- closing a door in someone’s face
- playing a block in front of someone. they break it. you place it again. this continues for two more minutes
- jumping down at someone from a higher place like “HI I’M HERE NOW!”
- sitting in cauldrons. become soup.
- music disc dancing. moving around as much as possible for pigstep and slow crouching to cat
- being offended/sad etc and digging down a few blocks to sulk
- anything along the lines of a player taking time to make something for a joke. someone says “let’s talk” and the other busts out a crafting table and crafts a stair so they can pretend to sit
Loving others' traits unconsciously leaking into their friends,,,,, Phil and Ranboo going 'bap bap bap' in Techno's inflection when they're placing blocks/doing something repetitive, Phil copying Techno's 'bruhHhHh', Ranboo automatically adopting Techno's rough tone when doing a bit, Wilbur sprinkling 'mate' into his sentences, Tommy copying Tubbo's accent when he says 'hello?', Phil and Wilbur and Tubbo going 'STOP IIIIT' in Tommy's accent without prompting, Techno and Tubbo going 'uh. UH.' when something unexpected happens just like Phil does,,,,,I could keep going for days but it's just so sweet to see especially because it's not on purpose :,)
Have you heard the good word about the Pembrokeshire walrus yet?
This walrus is fucken lost.
But Wales has lost its collective shit about it. They’re generally keeping its location secret to keep people away, but we get updates every day if it’s still here, if it’s happy, if it’s healthy. We think it was in Ireland about two weeks ago, which is interesting, because it is not actually native to Ireland either. Why is it here? No one knows.
Today on English People RUIN Everything, a bunch of English tourists from Essex and Leeds broke covid-19 regulations and travelled to Tenby over Easter to try and see Wally (so named after Where’s Wally) and crowded him with jet skis and surfboards and stuff, so he’s not been seen since Monday. We don’t know yet if he’s moved to a secluded spot again, or left Wales entirely.
But, you know, I doubt we were going to have Wally for much longer anyway, since they need to head back home again at some point. Godspeed, Wally. May your fish be ever plentiful.
The English went back home and Wally came back to Tenby! We stan a true Welsh icon, folks.
Some facts about Wally:
She is named after Where’s Wally because she is hard to spot
She was previously in Ireland, and then secluded beaches in Pembrokeshire, but has really taken a shine to Tenby, which is a delightful village
She has a scar on one flipper but it’s long-healed and doesn’t seem to bother her
She is the southern-most walrus ever spotted in the wild!
The current theory as to how she got here is that she fell asleep on an ice floe that drifted south, but she’s not bothered about returning yet
She’s believed to be two years old
Her gender is still a bit of a mystery but we seem to be leaning female
This story on Wales Online claims she’s believed to be male, but then uses female pronouns. It also features a video of some Welsh people chatting about Wally, including a child whose first language is very clearly Welsh and by the end of his part is struggling to think of things to say about the walrus in English.
The Western Telegraph has opted for male pronouns, and is being very firm that Wally is male, although other news outlets are still all over the place. But what has Wally been up to the past few days?
He is rapidly gaining weight, and is still giving no cause for concern to either of the organisations watching him (which are the RSPCA a bit and Welsh Marine Life Rescue a lot; this is funny though because a walrus is so far outside of the wheelhouse of either of those organisations like we’re all just guessing here, lads)
His delinquent ways have continued - he has now attempted to climb onto multiple buoys (all unsuccessfully) and at one point nearly got a mooring rope stuck around his neck.
Has he learned from this?
FOLKS HE HAS NOT!
He is now a Fashion Icon. He has surfaced multiple times wearing accessories in his moustache. Mostly this has been shells, but three days ago he upped his fashion game by wearing this starfish:
What an Icon.
The photographer of this picture, one Amy Compton who has been Wally’s official photographer since the start, has been making these delightful Wally masks (inset). They sell for £5, of which £1 goes to Welsh Marine Life Rescue. If you would like your own Wally mask, contact her here!
My mother came for a visit today and we checked and Tenby is an hour away from me, so we went for a Lovely Day Trip to Find a Walrus.
Friends, I took the shittest photo there has ever been of a Walrus. But I absolutely did get to see em.
A lifeboat wandered by to check em out at one point, and ey just… sank. Just dropped below the surface like Homer Simpson moving backwards into a hedge. After a while the boat left, and Wally surfaced again.
I can now confirm that ey really, really likes blowing water around like a whale, and also kept eyeing up that buoy next to em.
Also, I had entirely forgotten how comically beautiful Tenby is, but that’s an aside
It’s only a little one, but apparently we’re getting Serious about this walrus, lads - the police are now stepping in to say that anyone interfering with Wally (examples of this interference to date: throwing things at him, taking boats and paddle boards out to him, throwing fish overboard to tempt him closer, etc) is committing a criminal offence and we must send evidence of Assholes to them. So that’s fun!
Meanwhile, the tense stand-off between the RNLI and Wally continues over Who Gets To Use The Lifeboat Slipway. Here is a picture of Wally in full delinquent mode.
Here is the problem with 2,500 lbs of predatory sea potato using the slipway of a lifeboat station as a spa bed: sometimes, canoeists get in trouble near Stackpole and need rescuing and then some underwhelmed Welsh coast guard is going to have to try to chase said predatory sea potato off the slipway so they can launch the boat.
Here is the problem with that scenario: an underwhelmed Welsh coast guard basically views 2,500 lbs of predatory sea potato as a sort of ornery gelatinous cow, and so will try to do this with, and I am not making this up, a broom. But a ton of overgrown seal has no fear of brooms, so the attempt is not entirely successful under time-sensitive conditions while canoeists are actively drowning 10 miles away.
Solution? An air horn.
Which did work long enough to get the boat out, and then Wally clambered back aboard barely minutes later and fell asleep again. So trick learned, I guess.
Anyway, since I’ve apparently become Tumblr’s primary Wally journalist, I thought I’d go for a cheeky visit again today so I could report on their condition FIRST HAND (you’re all welcome, I have incredible integrity). Today I tried using a binocular over my phone camera with was extremely stressful and moderately successful - and I have two pieces of NEWS.
Story the First
Two dinghies with divers aboard suddenly turned up and sailed right up to them. There are Welsh Marine Life Rescue volunteers everywhere, and one woman immediately yelled “YOU ARE TOO CLOSE. MOVE AWAY.”
Everyone on the cliff went silent. The boats went closer.
“YOU ARE BREAKING THE LAW,” yelled the beachmaster. “MOVE AWAY.”
Tumblrs, they did not.
“CAN YOU HEAR ME?” she yelled. “MOVE AWAY.”
At which point, the whole fucken cliff starts joining in, because Welsh people are Like That.
“Move away!”
“Leave ‘im alone, mun!”
“Move away, butt, what you doing!”
“He’s the size of an ‘orse, bois, can’t you see ‘im from here?!”
“Bloody move you fucks, you’ll scare ‘im away again!”
(That last one was, I swear, an eighty year old woman.)
The boats, suddenly being yelled at by a whole cliff of Welsh people, sailed away. Later, we followed the beachmaster who was now on a mission, and found her with a couple of community police officers ripping the shit out of the divers. It was very satisfying.
Story the Second
I mentioned my binocular and phone trick. It came in handy. At first it gave me some very satisfying shots for a distance picture on a phone camera:
But, you know, whatever.
But THEN I got this picture:
which I got 0.256778 seconds before that majestic Arctic beast of purest beautiful nature untamed FELL OFF THE SIDE OF THE SLIPWAY LIKE A CAT THAT GOT TOO CLOSE TO A TABLE EDGE
Wally was fine, the seagull to the right was traumatised.
This is not an update as such but my friend Chris who I took with me to get the scoop on Wally on Sunday had a real camera with him, and he has produced a WAY better photo than I did, and I want you all to see Just How Louche a Walrus is capable of looking:
Okay, so this post went from 24,000 notes to 40,000 overnight, and I am getting a lot of important scientific queries about Wally! So I shall call upon my expertise as a skilled journalist of huge integrity and also a genuine, actual lecturer in environmental science to answer them all as best I can. I shall also use pictures.
1. When did this happen?
I have included many links in this thread to news articles on Wally, each of which is dated, so you can check those for accurate dates; but, xe turned up in Ireland in March 2021, and then made hir way to Pembrokeshire, Wales end of March. Xe reached Tenby a week or so later in April, and now refuses to leave. As of this update (6th May, 2021) xe’s still there and chillin’ - my friend Chris’ louche photo there was taken on Sunday the 2nd May.
I shall date all updates from now on. Apologies for this uncharacteristic lapse in my journalistic performance. I have let Wally down.
2. “Oh my god do you guys call Waldo Wally?!??”
Folks!! Folks so many of you are doing this!!! But here’s the thing!!!
Where’s Wally is a British series and that’s the original name!!! It has been translated and regionalised around the world, and the name was changed in 28 of them!! A sizeable number don’t even sound like ‘Wally’!!! In France he’s Charlie! In Lithuania he’s Jonas! In Arabic versions he’s Fuḍūlī!!!
Yet only one nationality is repeatedly reacting with astonishment while assuming theirs is the one true original version!!! Guess which one!!! You have to stop!!! Especially the few who have responded with out and out swearing and aggression when I’ve explained!!! THIS POST IS ABOUT A WALRUS!!!!
3. Is Wally okay in Wales? Does xe need to leave/be moved?
Xe’s currently fine - an Arctic walrus can handle water temperatures of up to 15 degrees celsius, which West Wales is certainly currently accommodating. Xe was also distressingly underweight when first spotted fresh off the ice floe, but we’ve been monitoring hir health and xe’s roughly doubled hir bodyweight and is very healthy. I asked the fishmonger in Tenby if xe’s affecting the catch and the nice man said no and sold me a lemon sole for my mam. So right now, Wally is doing great, all needs met, with no real clashes with other stakeholders (i.e. fishers and that) except for, you know, the one (i.e. the lifeboat people).
However, high summer in Wales is warm enough that the sea will top the temperature threshold. So, we’re expecting Wally to leave by hirself in a month or so, if xe doesn’t decide to move sooner. Whether xe decides to swim all the way back home, or xe starts just moving north along the western coast and next turns up in the Isle of Mann or Scotland to continue hir holiday of the Celtic Ring remains to be seen. But, xe’ll do it hirself eventually, so it’s down to us to just keep hir happy and healthy for as long as xe chooses to stay.
4. I think Wally is female!
Yeah, maybe
5. I think Wally is male!
Very possibly
6. I think walruses have no concept of gender!
Almost definitely
7. What’s Walrus in Welsh?
They’re not native, so the Cymricisation “walrws” is getting a lot of use - but, Welsh is nothing if not poetic, so in official literature it’s “morfarch”, which means “sea stallion” or “sea knight” depending on your dialect.
8. Did they really use a broom and an airhorn on Wally?!
Here is a forlorn coast guard attempting to shift hir with a broom:
And here is the same coastguard attempting to shift hir with an airhorn:
9. I cannot believe this walrus is a delinquent!!!
Very well. Here is Wally’s criminal case file, including photographic evidence of two boarded boats and hir mugshot:
Update time! Datestamp: 10th May 2021. And as this post is becoming hellishly long, I think it’s probably best if I start using Read Mores after a couple of inches of scroll space. Uh, sorry about the rambling length, folks, I apparently just have a lot to say about a walrus and also many pictures.
Anyway, Wales is weathering a storm at the minute, so the sea is currently pretty rough - turns out, Wally likes staying out at sea during this time because they’re a sucker for a wave machine, and same, Wally, same, wave machines are banging. What this means is that they aren’t about much at the minute, but as the sea calms over the next few days the prediction is that they’ll return to the slipway, climb aboard and then drop spark the fuck out for a few days to rest.
SO, speaking of that SLIPWAY and the CRIMES of this delinquent…
Alright, gang, BRACE YOURSELVES because there’s a Wally update incoming!
And it may be the last! Or maybe not, it all depends on what Wally decides to do.
Anyway, it’s 26th May 2021, and to tempt you to click the Read More, I offer these two photos of Wally actually being induced to finally fucken move after the underwhelmed Welsh coast guard had the bright idea of spraying him gently with a hose to mimic rain:
Datestamp: 30th May, 2021. Uh, Wally has decided on more shenanigans, starting, I shit you not, with continuing that trip of the Celtic Ring by going even further south to fecking Brittany, in France, and yes! Yes, I did make that joke! I did not expect it to come true!! But here we are!!
In fact, he overshot Brittany and hit the town of Les Sables d’Olonne, a bit further south along the coast. Where, NATURALLY, he promptly found a brand new slipway to terrorise, and a brand new piece of maritime safety infrastructure to block.
French fishermen report that he seems “interested” in their boats, and we all know how that will end.
Except, it seems his crimes are starting to catch up with him. Warning for news of minor walrus injury under the cut (he’s fine, no pictures).
This walrus will not let me rest. Just let me rest, Wally. Let me sleep.
Datestamp: 3rd June, 2021. You’ll all recall that the last we saw of our hefty oceanic bandit, he got hit by a boat while trying to steal it in France, as he so often does. Oh no! we all thought. What if Wally is hurt! We hope he recovers! We hope he learns to leave boats alone, and also turns the fuck around and swims to cooler waters!
Folks, he has learned ZERO LESSONS.
HE’S IN LA ROCHELLE
Quote from the local Gendamerie: “Checked Friday, May 28th by the nautical brigade in the port of La Rochelle, this walrus has been uncooperative.“
HOT OFF THE PRESS (I am a journalist of superlative integrity, it is often said)
Datestamp 5th June 2021, and he’s in Spain. He’s in Spain. He’s headed for fucken Galicia after all, lads. He’s heading south. Given that my every joking prediction has so far come true, I’m terrified to make the obvious joke that he’s heading for Patagonia. GO TO SCOTLAND, WALLY. GO TO FECKING SCOTLAND.
Anyway, here’s a clip of him in Bilbao, northern Spain, and also, there’s some extra news: after months of back-and-forth and guesswork, we do now have concrete evidence of Wally’s sex, including photographs. NSFW pics under the cut.
Captain’s log, star date 14th June 2021, and he’s in Santander. No, not the bank. The Spanish city, capitol of Cantabria, which is interesting given that Cantabria IS A CELTIC NAME, so the journey continues. Asturias and Gallicia beckon.
Here is a picture of him having climbed aboard yet another boat.
And this article has a link to a video of him boarding a pier back in La Rochelle, to the bemusement of some French fishermen (side note, it is very endearing that the Western Telegraph, a Pembrokeshire newspaper, is still closely following Wally’s adventures).
WILL HE GO BACK NORTH?!? Well, let’s see how he feels once he’s done Galicia.
Anyway, folks I have MIXED news. The good news is, after spending a worrying month heading closer and closer to the equator and then vanishing for two weeks, our fave oceanic chongus has finally, mercifully, turned the fuck around! He’s coming back home apparently, and has turned up in the Isles of Scilly, a small chain of islands off the toe of Cornwall. Hopefully, he’ll take a week there to feed and rest and then continue his journey north. We may yet see him make landfall in Scotland.
6th July 2021, and I shit you not, WALLY IS NOW OUTLAWED IN THE ISLES OF SCILLY.
Well, his crimes were always going to catch up with him eventually.
He’s now sunk multiple boats, and England is a very different place to Wales, so they’re trying to evict him. “He may prevent emergency response vessels from being immediately operational,” say British Divers Marine Life Rescue, as though he hasn’t already done this repeatedly in Tenby and the solution hasn’t been found to be an airhorn and a garden hose (the results of hardworking Welsh scientists are oft-ignored). In any case, The Walrus Must Go.
Hello Wally Watchers, and welcome back to Do You Love The Colour Of The Walrus!
Apologies for being so lax with updates, I’m trying to wait for a chunk of news these days in a vain bid to keep this post to a slightly more manageable length (cue hysterical laughter). But, as the number of messages in my inbox demanding news hits twenty three, let’s see what Wally is up to! And lads, there’s some big news!
Okay so last time I posted, Wally had made his way back to Ireland and was having a grand old time finding new boats to sink. That was back in August! So long ago.
Datestamp: 22nd September, 2021, and have I got news for you.
Petition to make Paul and Prue start a twitch channel where they are forced to bake their own technicals under time pressure. Live chat is read out loud by people from previous seasons who had to leave first.
theyre just shit @fuck-cherries - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag