A chicken and egg thing, really

God is said to be a Trinity; God, the Holy Ghost, and lastly, the Son. Together, they created man, woman, vegetation and homosexuals, and animals. I know what you’re thinking, but no, my problem this week is animals. Or rather, being told not to eat them.

When the Dalai Lama, extended family to The Trinity, says something, it unfailingly makes it to the dailies. He is expected to be spiritually enlightened, and an icon of something called worldly sense.

Last Sunday, he woke up and found himself disgruntled with the concept of caged chicken. In that inconsequential report in the Mirror, the Dalai Lama expressed his concern over the cruelty to caged chicken and hens, and said that we must not eat them – Great idea! – Or their eggs. Oh shucks!

Google and its counterparts have no reports on the lifespan of chicken, and that’s justified. But as in my ideal world, chicken could live, perhaps, for five years, indulging in procreation, laying eggs casually, a spot of ring wrestling around tea-time, a round of gossip just around sunset, some more procreation for the indulgent, and then deep slumber until everyone in the vicinity is awake and arguing. And then back to egg-dropping and other such tasks.

That way, being fed on eggs-on-toast, we’d be protein rich, and hence strong, and chicken would live heartily, being cooked only post natural death, keeping the Dalai Lama and his friends happy.

But cut the eggs out, and we’re left with a load of absolutely useless birds. Birds that, embarrassingly, can't fly. No, not even to save their lives. No self respecting nation in the world has a chicken for its National Bird. And no dyed in the wool wildlife expert would be overheard at the local pub, reeling away tales of ‘fascinating chicken I encountered’, or indulging in some ‘showing of scars’. It would be hideous if you did, and your sex life would be wrapped in a dull, brown envelope and thrown into the big, black sea.

Coming to the introspective bit, I really, really believe that The Trinity did go terribly wrong. And I also believe that I know exactly what must have happened. The Trinity was not an undisputed heavyweight happy family. They had Satan to contend with. Now like in all the big bad Hollywood flicks, the bad guy (Satan, let’s suppose) led a pack of other doofus’. And then there were the ‘other’ gangs. Neither here, nor there, but with little demands of their own.

So they had it; a board meeting. They squabbled, complained about how bad the tea was, shared tasteless anecdotes, and at 5 o’clock, went back out to create more senseless things, in their Toyota Pick-ups.

This is how we’ve ended up with snakes, lizards, cats, termites and jackals. God, trust nothing good to ever come out of Democracy.