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Our Crack Little Crack
I like to think of myself as a deep thinker. This week I’ve been
considering the plight of cavemen and what on earth they did for fun in
the evenings. (I’ve also been thinking about how we don’t hear so much
about cavewomen #StoneAgeMisognyny.) They didn’t have pop-up gins bars
or the 12-screen multiplexes that we take for granted today. They
probably had fancy dress parties, but I bet their choice of costume was
severely limited. Think about it. If you’re a caveman or cavewoman who
gets invited to a fancy dress party what on earth could you feasibly go
as? Elvis hadn’t been invented nor had Wonder Woman or Bart Simpson or
Snow White or Super Mario or Princess Leila. There were no cowboys,
hippies, flappers or sexy nuns (or, indeed, sexy santas or sexy Shreks).
Picture the scene: “I’ve been invited to Billy’s fancy dress party.”
“Oh yeah? What you going as?” “Same as usual I suppose: a
rock. Maybe a shrub.” Like I say: a deep thinker.