After an excessive Guy Fawkes Night with a wheelbarrow bonfire, fireworks to blow your hands off and the drunken Gümbet Gals Chorus (ladies, you know who you are), I’m suffering from mental paralysis. I have neither the inclination nor the energy to write anything remotely interesting, amusing or informative. It’s just as well that it’s Kurban Bayram across the entire Moslem world, a time where men are men and sheep are nervous. To celebrate the occasion, I am releasing a tiny snippet from Perking the Pansies the Book which tells of our first bloody encounter with the Feast of Sacrifice.
Liam answered a knock at the door. It was Tariq’s daughter. Selma was a pretty little thing, a fourteen year old girl with fathomless dark eyes and long brown hair, perfectly parted at the middle. Our contact had been minimal but we had exchanged half smiles and several hundred empty wine bottles: she occasionally helped Tariq with the rubbish disposal. Selma handed Liam a bag of bloodied bones.
‘For you,’ she said. ‘Iyi bayramlar.’
‘Why… thank you. Teşekkürler.’
Selma smiled nervously and wandered off into the night. Sheep’s blood dripped through the bag and splashed onto Liam’s feet.
‘What the fuck?’
‘Who was at the door?’
‘Selma and a bag of blood.’
‘Fantastic. Anyone for spare ribs?’
‘You’re excited by a bag of bones?’
It was Kurban Bayram, The Feast of Sacrifice commemorating an Old Testament myth. God rather unreasonably commanded Abraham to sacrifice his son. Thankfully, Abraham proved his devotion and God provided a sacrificial ram instead. I had never read the book but had seen the Hollywood movie several times.
Liam was unmoved. ‘So hapless sheep across the entire Moslem World are being butchered as we speak? Revolting.’
‘And the flesh is distributed among family, friends and the deserving poor.’
‘So we only get the bones. What does that make us?’
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