When they were first married, like all of their friends and neighbours, Freda and William were content to walk and run on all four legs. One day in April, about two million and twenty years B.C., some folks moved in next door and built a three foot high boundary fence.
This was no good to Freda. “How dare they build a fence? How am I expected to know what’s going on? How will I know if their curtains and furniture are fancier than ours?”
William was busy with his crossword and responded, “Why don’t you just jump over the fence and go and see for yourself?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “That would be so rude. But what I can do, is rest my front legs on top of it to see over. If anyone asks I’ll pretend I’m exercising.”
After a few months of doing this, William noticed how Freda’s back legs had become so much more attractive. “Freda, keep on doing that, you really have a great pair of pins.”
Thrilled by this compliment, Freda just had to tell her friends. “You’ll be amazed what William said to me last week; he said that I had the prettiest legs in the neighbourhood.”
Soon all the wives were getting their husbands to build fences around their properties. The men blamed William. “Hey you, Homo Erectus, us lads will now have to build fences to lean on as well, so that we can still chat to our neighbours. Next week Henry and I were planning to invent the wheel. There’ll be no time for that now.”
As years went by, some people became so skilled at this novel way of standing that they learnt to walk on just two legs. It became very popular and after a couple of generations, walking upright became the norm.
Stanley was the great great grandson of William and Freda. Whilst walking through the woods one fine sunny day with his young cousin Wayne, he came across an old sheep’s skull. “You see those two tall Caledonian pine trees over there, just beyond that big rock? I bet if I kick this skull over to you with my left foot, you’ll be able to boot it with your right over the rock and between the trees.”
“OK,” said Wayne. “Let’s give it a try.”
Stanley passed it across to Wayne, who drove it through the trees and shouted, “Goal!”
“You done fantastic,” said Stanley. “Let’s fall down and have a man-hug.”
“Right” said Wayne, “Then we’ll get nine more players and call ourselves Luton North End.”
Sport, with all its potential for even more back ailments, had just been invented.
By the time they were thirty years old, our ancestors’ backs were so painful that they spent the rest of their short lives thinking up different ways of describing just how sore they were.
Whenever people complained to their friends about their back ailments, they usually had the reply, “I don’t know what you’re moaning about; I can’t see anything wrong with your back, it doesn’t have a scratch on it. In any case, it can’t be as bad as my back; my back is really sore.”
Things have gradually improved with each millennia, but next time you hear yourself saying, “My back’s playing up today,” or “The pain is just at the base of my spine” or “Perhaps a hot bath will do it good,” or even with more hope than expectation, “Maybe I ought to see the Chiropractor”, just be philosophical about it and blame Freda. Content yourself with the thought that in another two million years, one way or another, the problem will almost certainly have disappeared.
This was no good to Freda. “How dare they build a fence? How am I expected to know what’s going on? How will I know if their curtains and furniture are fancier than ours?”
William was busy with his crossword and responded, “Why don’t you just jump over the fence and go and see for yourself?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “That would be so rude. But what I can do, is rest my front legs on top of it to see over. If anyone asks I’ll pretend I’m exercising.”
After a few months of doing this, William noticed how Freda’s back legs had become so much more attractive. “Freda, keep on doing that, you really have a great pair of pins.”
Thrilled by this compliment, Freda just had to tell her friends. “You’ll be amazed what William said to me last week; he said that I had the prettiest legs in the neighbourhood.”
Soon all the wives were getting their husbands to build fences around their properties. The men blamed William. “Hey you, Homo Erectus, us lads will now have to build fences to lean on as well, so that we can still chat to our neighbours. Next week Henry and I were planning to invent the wheel. There’ll be no time for that now.”
As years went by, some people became so skilled at this novel way of standing that they learnt to walk on just two legs. It became very popular and after a couple of generations, walking upright became the norm.
Stanley was the great great grandson of William and Freda. Whilst walking through the woods one fine sunny day with his young cousin Wayne, he came across an old sheep’s skull. “You see those two tall Caledonian pine trees over there, just beyond that big rock? I bet if I kick this skull over to you with my left foot, you’ll be able to boot it with your right over the rock and between the trees.”
“OK,” said Wayne. “Let’s give it a try.”
Stanley passed it across to Wayne, who drove it through the trees and shouted, “Goal!”
“You done fantastic,” said Stanley. “Let’s fall down and have a man-hug.”
“Right” said Wayne, “Then we’ll get nine more players and call ourselves Luton North End.”
Sport, with all its potential for even more back ailments, had just been invented.
By the time they were thirty years old, our ancestors’ backs were so painful that they spent the rest of their short lives thinking up different ways of describing just how sore they were.
Whenever people complained to their friends about their back ailments, they usually had the reply, “I don’t know what you’re moaning about; I can’t see anything wrong with your back, it doesn’t have a scratch on it. In any case, it can’t be as bad as my back; my back is really sore.”
Things have gradually improved with each millennia, but next time you hear yourself saying, “My back’s playing up today,” or “The pain is just at the base of my spine” or “Perhaps a hot bath will do it good,” or even with more hope than expectation, “Maybe I ought to see the Chiropractor”, just be philosophical about it and blame Freda. Content yourself with the thought that in another two million years, one way or another, the problem will almost certainly have disappeared.