Attack of the Little Fishies

After being tied up by the incessant demands of big business for some time ( and possibly the infamous Bad Ass Brenda ), Big Bicep Barry messaged me today with an interesting proposition.

Barry : What are you doing in May?
Paul : Not sure. Working. Why?
Barry : Wanna go to a hopefully deserted tropical island?
Paul : Sounds interesting, kinda like Lost. Will you be naked, oiled and willing?
Barry : Very funny.

Although it would have been far more interesting if he'd suggested a perverted homosexual weekend orgy, that would have been stretching the truth ( and possibly inspiring unintentional jealousy in Charming Calvin ) since my prim and proper Victorian pal actually called later to tell me he had an extra spot on his diving crew.

Scuba diving that is.

Sigh. I stupidly leapt at the offer having wild irrational thoughts of searching coral reefs for hidden shipwrecks and ancient pirate treasure when all Barry had in mind were colourful Nemos and Dorys - and of course snapping quantities of film with his recently repurchased camera ( so far free from the loathsome techie curse ).

Barry : So how about it?
Paul : You've got to be kidding right?
Barry : But you showed so much interest when I brought my photobooks over!
Paul : Who's looking at the fishes! You and a number of your well-built hottie buddies were all wearing skimpy swim trunks.
Barry : But the fishes...
Paul : Sure, they are cute and all... but I find the really minuscule ones awfully icky.
Barry : Icky? You deal with blood and gore on a daily basis and you find little fishes icky?
Paul : Yeah, just imagine! They could make their way into any one of the bodily orifices.
Barry : And you'd just have to think of that.
Paul : Really. Imagine if it sneaks into your speedos and then goes ...
Barry : Don't even say it!
Paul : What can I say? It's dirty, it's disgusting, it's degenerate - I love it!

Really. There's nothing I love more than travelling. Exciting land tours through ancient walled communities and exotic bazaars, I'm there. Road trips to bustling cities and endless suburbia, I'm there. But I draw the line at goggling over slippery little fishes while struggling to tread water ( and worrying endlessly over the bends and anal-probing sea life ).


I think I just got attacked by some little fishies!
Honestly though, although I don't count myself as all that squeamish, there are still a few things in the world that I find simply... icky.

1) Maggots. Been a persistent nightmare since one of my on-calls when I saw a whole thriving village of maggots nesting in a man's throat. Don't know how the CSI team deals with those wriggling creepy-crawlies but it's all I can do to keep my lunch down when I catch one of those.

2) Worms. Not the usual type you snag onto fish hooks since those are fine by me. These are the disgustingly slimy creatures that dwell in the gut resembling nothing more than the sand monsters in Dune. Imagine them crawling up the oesophagus into your throat - and then taking a curious peek out of your mouth. Saw that once in paediatrics and I almost ran screaming.

3) Hands dangling by the torn tendons. Nuff said, I think.

And now of course we have little mini fishes swimming into my ear - and other bodily orifices.