Dear Mr Ant
Many were the
times that my neighbour Derek’s son would return home from school with a
white stripe over his nose made from correction fluid, white paint or
gaffa tape, and would have to scrub or tear it off, because (in Derek’s
opinion) he looked not like a dandy, romantic highwayman, or maritime
ne’er-do-well, but a puerile fool.
Thanks to a recent undetected spillage of “orange squash” in my kitchen cupboard, I
have been subject to an infestation by your insect cohorts, eviction of whom is proving troublesome. You advise me not to step on an ant because he has not inconvenienced me in any way, in direct contrast to “him” cocking a snook at Health and Safety issues and intruding unhygienically into my area of food preparation. I am sorry, Mr Ant, but needs must; if I want to crush him under my shoe in retaliation, then crush him under my
shoe in retaliation I will.
I was intrigued and a little apprehensive regarding your hypothesis of what fate would be incurred if I cut an ant’s head off, so with some trepidation decided to call your bluff with the aid of a magnifying glass and a pair of tweezers. After a couple of botched practices I was able to sever said head from the thorax of my third subject in one clean snip. However, its legs did not come looking for me, and not just because they can't see - the animal expired immediately. Even if the outcome had been as you had warned, Adam, I still think my pre-ant decapitation nervousness was unfounded. The specimen's legs, which are neither venomous nor armed, measured less than one sixteenth of an inch in length. If it came to a conflict between myself and half a dozen such disembodied limbs, I imagine that I could probably fight all six off with a single plucked eyelash.
I would further point out that the precision engineering
required to craft wind, string or percussive instrumentation of such
miniscule dimensions that they could be played by organisms of the size
quoted has not yet been developed by man, nature, or indeed, ant. Even if
technology advances to this juncture, it is doubtful that any such
recitals would be perceptible to the human ear, let alone supersede
currently popular musical flavours. This would leave little incentive for
any jukeboxes to be electrically disconnected.
Finally, it strikes me as incongruous that your band is named Adam and the “Ants”, yet
dress as pirates, while celebrating your Native American affiliations. I must say that the “insect/ historical sea criminal/ proud warrior race” connection appears slightly arcane, if admittedly original.
Despite the above inconsistencies, Mr Ant, I remain an admirer of your work, and I
wish Marco, Merrick, Terry Lee, Gary Tibbs and yourself all the best in your future efforts.