Taxidermy

Taxidermy is an interesting word because it's derived from a Greek word and a latin word – rather like the word television. Something that not many people know about television... No, I could try to get out of talking about taxidermy in that way – but why would I shy away from such a fascinating subject. No, when you actually deconstruct the word taxidermy etymologically you get the latin word for “touch” and the Latin word for “skin”. And hey – suddenly it's sounding a bit sexier! Until of course you realise that all the skin that a taxidermist touches is going to be dead skin.

It's not the title of an erotic novel is it? “Touch of the Taxidermist.” Lets get serious now. For a long time, before the cruel chimerical Latin-Greek experiment of television, if you wanted to see an exotic animal and you didn't live in an exotic country you would struggle. Yes, you could maybe look at engravings in books. But that wasn't quite the same as the three dimensional experience of seeing the animal arrange, with some moss and twigs in a glass case. Some people, ecological-critics, detractors and other twats. Like to point out that these static tableau are the absolute opposite of realistic. The often point to the look of utter surprise and confusion on the faces of the animals in these glass cases. This is actually a misunderstanding of the taxidermalogical art. The taxidermist, as part of a ceremony shrouded in mystery has sworn, out of respect for the universe and all the living things in it, which at some point he might be compelled to fill with sawdust to preserve the last expression on the animals face. Of course, when you've just been shot through the gizzard by a handful of buckshot, the first emotion to run through your tiny little bird mind and flash across your face, probably is surprise.

Anyway taxidermy is a really important thing for local museums. If they didn't have endless cases filled with stuff muntjacs. All the would have is a watercolour painting of the town by a local artist and heavily corroded Anglo Saxon spoon dub up by a boy called Kevin.

Some people get stuffed. I mean avail themselves of the taxidermatory art after death (of course). Famously the philosopher and economist Jeremy Bentham had himself stuffed and put in a cupboard at University College London, hopefully in that order. Apparently they get him out occasionally. At not just to help unimaginative medical students who can't think of anything else to steal for a prank. They actually have him join them for college dinners and stuff. Well say what you want about dead stuffed people. They're a cheap date.

Some people think that taxidermy is “a bit weird” - in fact it is a kind of special weirdness that is recognised by science and has it's own special term “the uncanny valley.” Now, to me, that sounds like exactly the kind of holiday camp that my parents took me to when I was a kid, but what it signifies is that we really like drawings and representations of humans that don't look very much like us – for example the Michelin man, Mr Blobby, why am I think of these examples? But when these “pretend” things start to get too real we get a bit spooked. Sometimes. Some of us. Because the huge success of Madame Tussauds would kind of indicate otherwise. Maybe there's some kind of higher rule that applies you would get spooked if, say your mother was stuffed (especially if she was alive when they did it – ha!) but if that's the only way you can get near David Beckham, well, you'll settle for that. I think that was the principle that was going on when I talked to a woman on a train on the way to Vienna.

Her: Where do you live?

Me: London?

Her: London!!! They have a waxwork of Angelina Jolie there don't they?

Me: Erm. Maybe.

Her: Oh you are so lucky living in London, where you can go see the waxwork of Angelina Jolie whenever you want. Do you see it often?

Me: Erm well actually, I've never been to Madam Tussauds.

Her: Really?

Me: Yes

Her: Oh.

[Awkward silence for remainder of four hour journey to Vienna]

But I am of course digressing away from taxidermy into the equally fascinating (to some) field of Angelina Jolie wax effigies. I want to come back to taxidermy in a big way. I know, because I've seen a documentary film about it (that I'm going to find after I've finished writing this and post a link to), that contrary to what you might expect, taxidermy is a competitive sport, with its own world championships. I can't remember much about the film but I can remember the woman who had a freezer full of animal penises (no Sigmund, sometimes it isn't just a cigar). I also remember the Swiss man who had been world champion and who had pioneered the discipline of stuffing minnows but who wasn't allowed to compete any more on the advice of mental health care providing professionals.

I also remember the interview with the mum of the former world taxidermical champion (retired). The minnow stuffer.

“At first, I thought it would be a good thing,” she said. “It would get him out of the house and get him to meet people.” Yeah, like the woman with a freezer full of cocks. “But I hadn't bargained on the smell.”

Ah yes, the smell. You need some pretty stinky chemicals to preserve the rotting flesh of dead animals. Which is why historically tanneries – and fake tanning salons - have always been kept to the poorest parts of towns.

Posted via email from The Ginger Mumbly