Competition -The National Animal? – The Anna Raccoon Archives

by Anna Raccoon on November 2, 2011

Post image for Competition -The National Animal?

A suggestion from Saul, following the news that Canadians are lobbying to change their national animal from the Beaver to the Polar Bear (so very ‘this year’!) .

What animal would you choose to represent the Great British Nation?

There will be some sort of prize – don’t hold your breath.

{ 55 comments }

LJH November 5, 2011 at 12:27

For the political class definitely the pushmi-pullyu, whatever is in
charge, it’s still the same b****y animal;
the economically active, a
hamster, on a treadmill;
the subsidised underclasses, a weasel, or
something that’s not averse to taking off the hand that feeds it.

John B November 5, 2011 at 08:44

I was thinking of slugs, looking at some of the attitudes that seem to be
on the increase.
But I think the award has to go to the fox.
Cunning,
conniving, convincing conmen that carry themselves very well.
There is also
the strong, very decent core in the Englishman, but I think that belongs to a
belief system and code that is fading fast as we turn away from perceiving God
as anything more than a myth for the welfare of the
intellectually-challenged.

Gloria Smudd November 4, 2011 at 21:13

What my mum used to call “a grey deedle”. A woodlouse to you. One of those
dark, smooth ones that curl up into nature’s ball bearing. I like grey
deedles.

Andrew Duffin November 4, 2011 at 12:58

The poodle?

Anoraknophobia November 4, 2011 at 10:32

I’d go with the Cockroach.

Not well loved, but persistent as hell. By jingo, it’ll take more than a
nuclear holocaust – or Eurogeddon – to finish us off. All together now:

Rule, Britannia! Britannia rule the waves….

Engineer November 4, 2011 at 12:06

Why is it you never see a Henroach?

Entirely concur with the underlying spirit of the comment, though.

“And did those feet in ancient time….”

Ed P November 4, 2011 at 12:18

I thought it’s, Rule Britannia! Britannia waives the rules…

Mjolinir November 4, 2011 at 10:28

The Bandar Log?

See”Kaa’s Hunting” in the Jungle Book by Kipling – a carefully wrapped
polemic against scatter-brained liberalism/anarchy

“We are great. We are free. We are wonderful. We are the most wonderful
people in all the jungle! We all say so, and so it must be true.”.

Here we go in a flung festoon,
Half-way up to the jealous moon!
Don’t
you envy our pranceful bands?
Don’t you wish you had extra
hands?
Wouldn’t you like if your tails were–so–
Curved in the shape of a
Cupid’s bow?
Now you’re angry, but–never mind,
Brother, thy tail hangs
down behind!

Here we sit in a branchy row,
Thinking of beautiful things we
know;
Dreaming of deeds that we mean to do,
All complete, in a minute or
two–
Something noble and wise and good,
Done by merely wishing we
could.
We’ve forgotten, but–never mind,
Brother, thy tail hangs down
behind!

All the talk we ever have heard
Uttered by bat or beast or bird–
Hide
or fin or scale or feather–
Jabber it quickly and all
together!
Excellent! Wonderful! Once again!

Now we are talking just like men!
Let’s pretend we are … never
mind,
Brother, thy tail hangs down behind!
This is the way of the
Monkey-kind.

Then join our leaping lines that scumfish through the pines,
That rocket
by where, light and high, the wild grape swings.
By the rubbish in our
wake, and the noble noise we make,
Be sure, be sure, we’re going to do some
splendid things!

macheath November 4, 2011 at 12:13: Inspired!

The Bandar-log was how my father – a lifelong Kipling fan – invariably
used to refer to Tony Blair and the proponents of ‘Cool Britannia’.

M Barnes November 3, 2011 at 22:24

Oh come on….. cheer up people! Enough with the misery already.

My vote is the Mongrel:

Mixed parentage, can breed an infinte variety of looks/ abilities from
doggy DNA, smarter than it looks, a certain low cunning, a survivor, prone to
bouts of silliness like chasing sticks and barking at squirrels.

Livewire November 4, 2011 at 06:47: We bitch & moan, disgruntled us
We let it out like rancid pus

Bare the fangs & swing the boot
A tailored mode, a genre suit

The Eloi mode is not our way
Eff the lot it’s comment day

Penny dreadfuls widely read
The happy journals long since dead

Ancient + Tattered Airman November 3, 2011 at 21:20

Amoeba.

Livewire November 3, 2011 at 19:34

Way offtopic, but the wild internet waves said there might be a party on
the blog…
Something I prepared earlier, I’ll give the national animal
contest a bit of thought later.

Always bring a bottle to the party. Here’s some fine malt, matured for
years in the cask.

The sons of the prophet were hardy and bold,
and quite unaccustomed to
fear.
But the bravest of these was a man I am told
named Abdul Abulbul
Amir.

This son of the desert in battle aroused,
could spit twenty men on his
spear.
A terrible creature, both sober and soused,
was Abdul Abulbul
Amir.

When they needed a man to encourage the van,
or to harass the foe from
the rear;
or to storm a redoubt they had only to shout,
for Abdul
Abulbul Amir.

There are heroes aplenty and men known to fame
in the troops that were
led by the Tsar;
but the bravest of these was a man by the name
of Ivan
Skavinsky Skivar.

He could imitate Irving, play euchre and pool
and perform on the Spanish
guitar.
In fact, quite the cream of the Muscovite team
was Ivan
Skavinsky Skivar.

The ladies all loved him, his rivals were few;
he could drink them all
under the bar.
As gallant or tank there was no one to rank
with Ivan
Skavinsky Skivar.

One day this bold Russian had shouldered his gun
and donned his most
truculent sneer;
downtown he did go where he trod on the toe
of Abdul
Abulbul Amir.

“Young man”, quoth Abulbul, “has life grown so dull,
that you’re anxious
to end your career?
Vile infidel know, you have trod on the toe
of Abdul
Abulbul Amir!”

“So take your last look at the sunshine and brook,
and send your regrets
to the Tsar.
By this I imply you are going to die,
Mr. Ivan Skavinsky
Skivar.”

Quoth Ivan, “My friend, your remarks, in the end,
will avail you but
little, I fear.
For you ne’er will survive to repeat them alive,
Mr.
Abdul Abulbul Amir!”

Then this bold mameluke drew his trusty chibouque
with a cry of “Allahu
Akbar!”
And with lethal intent he ferociously went
for Ivan Skavinsky
Skivar.

Then they parried and thrust and they side-stepped and cussed
’till
their blood would have filled a great pot.
The philologist blokes, who
seldom crack jokes,
say that hash was first made on that spot.

They fought all that night, ‘neath the full moon’s bright light;
the
din, it was heard from afar;
and multitudes came, so great was the
fame
of Abdul and Ivan Skivar.

As Abdul’s long knife was extracting the life –
in fact, he was shouting
“Huzzah!” – –
he felt himself struck by that wily Kalmuck,
Count Ivan
Skavinsky Skivar.

The sultan drove by in his red-breasted fly,
expecting the victor to
cheer;
but he only drew nigh to hear the last sigh
of Abdul Abulbul
Amir.

Tsar Petrovich, too, in his spectacles blue,
rode up in his new crested
car.
He arrived just in time to exchange a last line
with Ivan Skavinsky
Skivar.

A loud-sounding splash from the Danube was heard
resounding o’er meadows
afar;
it came from the sack fitting close to the back
of Ivan Skavinsky
Skivar.

There’s a tomb rises up where the blue Danube flows;
engraved there in
characters clear;
“Ah stranger, when passing, please pray for the
soul
of Abdul Abulbul Amir.”

A Muscovite maiden her lone vigil keeps,
‘neath the light of the pale
polar star;
and the name that she murmurs as oft as she weeps
is Ivan
Skavinsky Skivar.

Livewire November 3, 2011 at 20:02

Not the people of the country, but the political class are best
represented by a giant panda.
A cuddly friendly creature ?
Actually a
vicious bastard that will scrap rather than breed and is so stupid it will
refuse to eat anything other than a particular type of bamboo, and will
spend more energy searching for it than it gets from the food.
See the
Chi Chi and An An story from years ago. Nature’s joke species, only outdone
by governments who announce even more billions to be borrowed and pissed
away in Euro bailouts. Congratulations Cameron, start
beating up the No.
10 secretaries and you’ll be as well liked as Brown was.

macheath November 4, 2011 at 12:18

Is it something in the air this week?

http://newgatenews.blogspot.com/2011/11/sledgehammer-rapier-or-firebomb.html

Demetrius November 3, 2011 at 14:43

The Jerboa.

Dioclese November 3, 2011 at 12:38

Ostrich – head buried firmly in the sand of the Fourth Reich

or perhaps a Sloth – living on benefits of course!

delcatto November 3, 2011 at 12:26

The Dodo.

oberon November 3, 2011 at 10:45

The squeezed cash cow and the troughing pig

Mjolinir November 4, 2011 at 10:10: @Oberon – No ‘troughing pigs’ allowed in Cambridgeshire!-

//A council removed all references to “snouts” and “troughs” from an
online debate after councillors approved a 25% pay rise and voters accused
them of greed … and they were repeatedly accused of acting like “pigs to the
trough”.//
[Telegraph, 03-11-11 http://tinyurl.com/3n6swfk

stopcpdotcom November 3, 2011 at 10:43

The slug.

Mick Turatian November 3, 2011 at 09:43

The Pussy

Pericles November 4, 2011 at 19:49: Thank you, Mick; that was my thought too. Especially when I heard how an
illegal-immigrant criminal with several aliases was awarded £17,000 (I
think) of tax-payers’ money because detained by the H.O. four months longer
than some risible law permits whilst it tried to figure out whence the hell
he had come from. Jesus f******* wept! ΠΞ

boulay November 3, 2011 at 08:44

On a more serious note surely our national animal should be

The Money Spider.

It represents the British belief that money can just be magicked up from
nowhere because they heard a myth once that it can….

JuliaM November 3, 2011 at 19:22: Winner!

boulay November 3, 2011 at 08:41

the rare Ed Balls Boar represents Britain perfectly –
Economically
illiterate.
Addicted to debt.
Sponges off the
state.
Rude.
Ugly.
Fat.

P. Ondrin November 3, 2011 at 07:48

The rabbit…………………… in headlights of course!

Robert Edwards November 3, 2011 at 07:44

The adder. Elegant, sinuous and not far from extinction; one of the few
reptiles with which one can build a friendship.

Ed P November 3, 2011 at 07:37

Homo Chaviens

Leg-iron November 3, 2011 at 06:41

The weasel. We’ve already put them in charge.

Spiral Architect November 3, 2011 at 05:43

Britain’s ‘national animal’ for the 21C must be…………..

…………..John Prescott (vagina vulgaris).

Overpaid, idle, incoherent, incompetent, unpleasant, aggressive,
self-pitying, self-absorbed………

Woman on a Raft November 3, 2011 at 17:15: A pig is an animal with dirt on his face
his shoes are a terrible
disgrace
He has no manners when he eats his food
He’s fat and lazy and
extremely rude
But if you don’t care a feather or a fig
you may grow
up to be a pig.

ivan November 3, 2011 at 00:31

I think three are required.

The Cowardly Lion.
The Sheep
A rat.

Who they represent is left to the reader.

View from the Solent November 2, 2011 at 23:14

The elephant in the room.

Woman on a Raft November 2, 2011 at 23:03

Unicorn – often shown collared but with a broken chain because it cannot be
tamed and will always break free. Eventually.

Châtelaine November 2, 2011 at 22:35

The mouse that roared?
Tin hat on and gone for the day ;-)

john malpas November 2, 2011 at 22:34

the tapeworm or the cuckoo

Ian Thorpe November 2, 2011 at 20:36

The mole. Blundering along in the dark at the bottom of a hole.

Caedmon’s Cat November 2, 2011 at 20:34

The Three-Toed Sloth. . Or maybe the Garden Slug..?

Mudplugger November 2, 2011 at 20:19

I’ve always been partial to a nice beaver…..

Engineer November 2, 2011 at 20:32: Well, someone had to say it…

Barking Spider November 2, 2011 at 20:02

It used to be a lion – these days it’s a mouse.

As for the Canadians, I’d have thought that a caribou would be more
appropriate.

Grandad November 2, 2011 at 19:54

Ireland is adopting the Headless Chicken

Engineer November 2, 2011 at 19:46

The Fox.

Some love to hunt him, some love to hunt the hunters; he knows both country
and town, he’s resourceful and cunning, handsome, fleet of foot, a fine hunter
himself, and he enjoys a chicken dinner.