How exciting those early days of leading a sibling democracy must have seemed to those who achieved high office. As our political model in the previous chapter's illustrates, leadership was nothing if not exciting, even though it may have always teetered on the edge of being for a short space of time only, reappointment being brought about quite swiftly by any less-than-aware incumbent being eaten; 'lost leader' would have been a phrase coined just about now, if sufficient brain power could ever have been diverted from the chase (luncheon or sexual) and focused on such a profound thought, that is.
With the successful groups’ becoming larger hunting became more problematic for the crowd, but it was recognised by our leader that the sharing of food items became a requirement if he was to thrive and spread this seed of communal living amongst others of his kind; and one thing our man in high power wanted to do was spread his seed. To that end the killer-group, still led by our indefatigable leader but from a safer distance nowadays, began to take only a small portion of the kill for themselves before returning to base camp with the remaining spoils. This massive step forward in communal awareness would mean the non-hunting members – particularly the women – would be fit and able to continue the tribe’s growth.
Before this the culmination of the kill had instigated a first-past-the-post routine for the non-hunting members. This group, remaining within the vicinity of the hunt at a rough camp site, waited, straining for the sound of silence that signified the beast was dead and it was safe to close in. On reflection, I guess this silence could also have signalled the demise of the whole hunting group to some gang of ravening Plain’s Lions waiting by the kill site in ambush mode, thereby consigning this second wave of newly arriving, far weaker, younger, older or sissy members to the dubious position of a fast disappearing dessert; but rumbling tums often throw caution to the wind, one silence sounding much like another and those who did the killing never left a lot for latecomers.
Any hunt that was successful and completely Plain’s Lion-free (and had the animal that formed the central core of the hunt either dead or at least only twitching weakly) would be the signal for this mass of masculine hunter-flesh to fall upon the newly deceased beast, flint axes flailing, clubs kerr-banging and jaws chomping, followed as quickly as was possible by the remainder of the non-hunting group as they caught up with the slaughter-house-crew. In fact it was wise to keep moving once one became part of this melee for fear of having a limb removed and eaten by an overzealous companion. Obviously the choicest portions of the beast would be removed, fought over and devoured first. Hearts’ still palpitating, livers’ still quivering, whatever came out first; indeed those back at camp would be lucky to gain so much as a scrotum if they didn’t make the site of the kill in time; definitely not a scrotum as that was considered a delicacy even back then, claimed usually by the leader and gulped down first.
There is, in a museum in Iceland in fact, the only authenticated case of a humanoid leader choking on a scrotum. The research team who discovered the corpse worked out, by the bangle on one arm (not so much a bangle, more the spincter muscle taken from the arse of a caribou) and the crude tattoo on his other (that bore the barely decipherable marks, LIKL cut into the man’s forearm by some semi-sharp instrument, someone’s teeth probably) that this was indeed a man of substance if of poor scenting prowess, education and spelling ability. The body lies, still frozen, in an ice-coffin, the ice preserving both scrotums intact as it were. We can only surmise whether there was much of a first-aid struggle for the scrotum-choking leader. Maybe his companions tried possibly to retrieve the offended appendage; if they did so it was to steal and eat it probably, no room for sentiment where scrotums are concerned back then. So the scrotum-scrum descended as this mass of slack flesh ballooned out in the leader’s throat, our ancestor coughing, gurgling and turning blue with a trick only repeated by our most celebrated porn-stars since then. Once the lack of air had rendered four-balls into the ‘prone and still’ position one can only conjecture why the sweetbreads were not removed from the throat and scoffed down by another group member for, as is well known, testicles are a luxury for a dead man. Professor Jorgen Denser of the Faculty of Pre-History at Helsinki University, by deft and painstaking research, thinks the reason for this is the graphic way the poor unfortunate died.
As Professor Denser stated in his paper, delivered to the Geographical Society (London) 1984, and entitled, “Why Risk Assessment Confused Proto-Primates”; “The act of dying was still a much feared and awesome process back then, video not having been invented, and this man’s death throes as he thrashed around the open space in ever decreasing circles, pointing at his throat, legs and arms akimbo until he disappeared up his own bearskin must have at first frightened then intrigued the other group members.” Denser then continues. “It may even have been sufficiently intriguing for them to halt their own feeding frenzy and try to copy the dying man’s movements as they seemed almost magical in their gymnastic activity”; (Denser 1984).
Professor Denser’s theory falters here, however, as he then goes on to proffer the hypothesis that this was the point in history when disco was born. This idea is dismissed by all others at the Faculty. As they rightly point out (and up and then across the floor) a pair of white pants and a pot of paint belonging to ‘Lakoftalent Man’ had been found alongside a club, together with a torn and grubby section of sheet music, the tune of which could only have been performed by a spider monkey with a strangulated hernia. All these detractors, the other workers in this field, use as evidence;
1). The geographical position where traces of the hunt were actually discovered; i.e. atop a plateau with a one-thousand-foot drop at its eastern edge;
2). Where the frozen body of ‘Cho-king Man’, as he became to be known, was discovered; i.e. at the foot of this thousand-foot cliff; and
3). The fact that Professor Denser, two weeks after delivering this paper, up and married a fiddler crab he’d met on the beach the day before.
All of the above three points tend to give their alternative theory credence. Primitive man was fond of his food, but when lack of wind, caused by a jammed scrotum, sent the perpetrator pogo-ing over a thousand foot drop? Well another important political lesson was learnt; namely when you realise your leader is talking bollocks, distance yourself.
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