What a boar

I used to share a workshop with a girl from Zimbawbwe, long before I had ever even thought about going to Africa on holiday, let alone living there.

I said wasn’t it a scary place and she said, not half as scary as Croydon, where she had already been mugged – Twice!

Me. Enlightened.

I loved her stories. One day she’s talking about a bore hole and I thought it was something to do with boars, as in ‘pigs.’

Raucous laughter.

While we’re on pigs, you know the warthog?

Yeah, I LOVE warthogs, with the bumper-car tails…

You got it – them! Well, when they’re eating, their skin is so saggy, they have to lift their tail up like that when they run, to tighten their skin enough that they can see…

Whaaaat?

Yeah!

Five years later I’m on safari and I find this to be an embarrassing un-truth.  I call Georgie and get afore-menitoned raucous laughter.

For about 5 minues.

Soooo….You eventually found out!

She says.

What a boar