Scottish independence, a cryptozoological perspective

The Slightly-Less United Kingdom: the shape of things to come?

I've not given the Scottish independence debate an awful lot of thought, really. Beside my standard response to any prospective ripple of change disturbing my own little pond - which is fear and panic, of course - I've largely been of the viewpoint that in the case of any referendum taking place over 400 miles from where I live and in which I don't get a vote probably isn't really anything of my concern. Aside from a few procedural queries - what would happen to the Union Flag? Will I need a passport to get into Scotland? What now for shortbread? - I remain admirably placid.

Until today, that is, when I realised that the United Kingdom would be losing its only cryptid of note to another sovereign nation. This is a complete disaster and it needs to be addressed in parliament as soon as possible. The Nessie question.

Loch Ness: goodbye to all that

The Loch Ness Monster is possibly the most famous cryptozoological creature in the world. Only our hairier cousin (or less hairy cousin, if you come from Dorset) the Bigfoot can hope to rival it. It is by far and away the most important possibly-exigent creature in the UK today. A Union without Scotland would have to completely revise what it believed in.

Because, to put it simply, the Loch Ness Monster exists whereas all of the middling British cryptids that skulk in her shadow are probably don't. There is every chance, indeed, that they are in fact merely the fevered imaginings of people who are quite deeply unbalanced in some way. The question of what would give a Scotland-less Union its air of magical mystery is a difficult one to answer. Britain is an ancient land and it relies on its essential cryptid economy for its very survival. It is, perhaps, going to prove the final irony that it was only in killing the last remaining dragon that St. George was able to found the first English settlements.

Nessie: voting YES on Scottish independence

It is certainly an issue important enough to begin to address now, rather than waiting on the results of next year's vote. Britain's most senior post-Nessie cryptid must be decided ahead of time. There cannot be any sort of cryptozoological interregnum in this sceptred isle; that would be a breeding ground for panic, dissension and claimed sightings of all manner of three-headed goats. I don't for a moment claim to be clued-up enough to be able to predict the likely outcome of the Scottish independence referendum. All I do know is, it's not something that those of us to the south of Hadrian's Wall can afford to make assumptions about or adapt to on the hoof. Nessie herself is probably pretty much in the "pro" camp. A lot like Sean Connery, with the additional benefit that she actually lives in Scotland.

To this end, I have been dredging up all the peculiar beings that England, Wales and Northern Ireland have to offer, in order to find a potential replacement for Nessie should one become required from 2014 onwards. Here are the front-running candidates.

THE OWLMAN OF MAWNAN

Advantages: For a start, just look at the thing. The power of flight is also a significant bonus after a century of a rather more geographically-limited Top Cryptid. Also, the Owlman is a known sheep attacker, an always welcome Cryptozoological meme.

Disadvantages: The capacity for flight is a double-edged sword. Defections to Ireland or France remain a possibility, making the Owlman an unreliable choice. There's also the troublingly likely possibility that it's just a Cornish malcontent wearing feathery pyjamas, working through a series of highly ritualised but ultimately unsuccessful suicide attempts.

THE BEAST OF BODMIN

Advantages: In addition to a name which is guaranteed to capture the imagination, the Beast of Bodmin Moor is also much more fierce than the Loch Ness Monster ever was, and more proactive. Unless Nessie starts to pull sheep from the banks of the Loch, the beast offers a far more tantalising mortal threat.

Disadvantages: Let's not beat about the bush, it's probably just an escaped big cat. Or a nutter. Or nothing.

THE TUNBRIDGE WELLS BIGFOOT

Advantages: Unlike the Owlman and the Beast of Bodmin, who are both of a more bucolic disposition, the Kentish Apeman brings a frisson of cryptozoological terror into the more densely populated English home counties. With fewer sheep to bother, this Bigfoot will surely have to start preying on dogs, cats or teenagers with paper rounds, a welcome trope in the study of mythological creatures.

Disadvantages: Very badly lacking in any real caché, an English bigfoot would only add to the already swollen tales of hominids from throughout world folklore. The only potential for originality would be in naming the beast, so that it might be distinct from its hairy brethren the Saquatch, Yeti, Hibagon or Almasti. Also, knowing Kent it's probably just a hairy bloke.

GENAPRUGWIRION

Advantages: From Abersoch, this Welsh condender could possibly give off enough of an air of inclusiveness that would prevent another country buggering off because they hate English people.

Disadvantages: At just a foot long, a skulky brown insect-eating lizard is hardly likely to set any pulses racing. However, this could be the ideal cryptid for home pest control use during the hot summer months.

SHINY THE CAT

Advantages: Fierce, massive, violent, psychopathic and terrifying. Also, its definite existence and ease of location are both a serious boon, after a century of pilgrimage to Loch Ness.

Disadvantages: Perhaps a little too commonplace to really be outstanding, Shiny the cat's key excluding criteria is in fact the high probability that he will fuck you up. Nevertheless, a leading candidate.

SPRING-HEELED JACK

Now we're getting somewhere.

Watching horror with a dog

This week I have begun a two-and-a-half week stint looking after my girlfriend's dog. This dog is a dog and therefore he is quite difficult to explain things to, or to reason with. As a result, he has been somewhat clingy. He is currently sitting on my leg. When he isn't he dogs my footsteps. Probably because, as I have mentioned previously, he is a dog.

The problem is, it's making my life rather difficult as a number of my best laid plans have had to be abandoned. All I have to show for the last two days is a blog post about Jack the Ripper films which only 42 people have so far read and a cold. Also, my leg smells a bit like dog. Today, then, I thought I'd make a virtue of this situation and at least get another post out of it. This will represent a 200% increase in my productivity since Wednesday and is a step in the right direction. A dog.

My plan is, I'm going to watch three British horror films from the 1960s and 1970s, which I have never seen before, with the dog and see what happens. I am very aware that it is this kind of hard-hitting journalism that keeps you all coming back.

LEGEND OF THE WEREWOLF (1975)

Much like this dog, this film has a good pedigree: directed by Freddie Francis, starring Peter Cushing and written by Anthony Hinds, it's a Hammer Horror Holy Trinity. The plot summary on Wikipedia, too, is irresistible:

"A boy that has been raised by wolves is displayed as a circus freak. Then he grows up, becomes a zookeeper and falls in love with a prostitute. His jealousy brings out his wolf side, changing him into a werewolf so that he can kill her clients."

But this film is a risk. This dog does not take kindly to other furry things. On Wednesday night he spacked out at the sight of a camel on QI. And that was a camel. It is very possibly a portent of worse things to come, much like letting a man raised by wolves be the keeper at your zoo.

I needn't have worried, though. The dog had no interest in this film whatsoever. He was more taken by the soluble paracetamol that I was taking for a sinus headache, which some genius had made aniseed flavour in order to send dogs wild with jealous yearning. But I quite liked the film. I liked the magnificently smarmy filthy old head zookeeper (played by Ron Moody) and I particularly enjoyed the innovative WEREWOLF VISION. Otherwise known as sticking a red filter over the camera. I enjoyed, too, Peter Cushing's role as the forensic pathologist. In his determination to look past the easy solutions in order to find the truth, his character put me in mind of my beloved Quincy - if you can imagine that instead of fucking a string of airline stewardesses on a boat in Los Angeles, Quincy hung around 19th Century Parisian knocking shops looking for werewolves.

The werewolf: responsible for more Paris deaths than emphysema and syphilis combined

Where it perhaps fell down is that I suspect it aims at making a commentary on the destructiveness of male sexual jealousy. But it's hard to take things much past face value, having already suspended enough disbelief to buy into the main protagonist being a wolf boy found and displayed by circus Gypsies, eventually becoming urbane and socialised enough to get a job at a Paris zoo, albeit Paris' mankiest, most sordid, Albert Steptoe zoo ever. The overall effect, then, is merely a tale of the damaging effect of lycanthropy on the rumpy-pumpy sector of the free market economy, normally an area of sustained growth.

The dog, meanwhile, just wanted to play with his ball. It was a handy reminder to carry a rubber ball with you at all time, with one eye to being able to fend off any werewolf attacks as and when they occur.

FEAR IN THE NIGHT (1972)

At this stage I took the dog for a walk but, not finding any werewolves, it was time for another film. This time, Judy Gleeson plays a woman who gets a job working at a boarding school, only to start to be terrorised by a one-armed man. This film was immediately more up the dog's street and he happily barked along with the opening title sequence, which featured a schoolboy choir singing.

The dog was not particularly interested in this perilous scenario, however. He went to sleep once and then barked at a carpet van.  Maybe it was the effect of the walk. I suggest it's more likely to be the effect of the film, which drags on a bit. When there's a one-armed maniac on the loose, the simple fact of the matter is I want him to be more prevalent in the overall narrative of the film.

Peter Cushing in Fear in the Night: having a variety of problems

Nevertheless, it did have Peter Cushing in it, who couldn't have been unwatchable if he tried. If there were only one reason why I find British horror films of the 1960s and 1970s so compelling (there isn't), it would be because the likelihood of an appearance by Peter Cushing is very high. The dog, seemingly, is less impressed by such things and went off into the kitchen to find something to sniff.

THE BLOOD BEAST TERROR (1968)

Handsome young men everywhere are being sucked dry of their juices by a cryptozoological demon which has overtones of case of The Owlman of Mawnan, only less shit. Peter Cushing is again in attendance, making everyone wonder if perhaps it's more than a coincidence that all this death, terror and mutilation should follow him about. And whilst it may not have captured the imagination of the dog, any film whose opening titles read "Guest star: Roy Hudd" is a force to be reckoned with.

The Blood Beast Terror, hushed up by the mainstream press

The actual explanation for all of these goings on is more straightforward. Etymologist Dr. Mallinger's daughter Claire turns into a blood-sucking weremoth during a full moon and preys on the village males, whilst her father tries to genetically engineer her a mate. As any father would, and does. It's something of a far-fetched premise and I suspect a lot of it was designed merely with one eye on creating set pieces filled with gore and monsters. Although this may be a cynical view. This film could have more to say than The Battleship Potemkin. Which would make this film better than The Battleship Potemkin because The Battleship Potemkin has ZERO weremoths. Most things do. Weremoths don't actually exist. If they did, lightbulb sales would plummet as fast as blackout curtain sales would soar. Weremoths. Ultimately, this film isn't better than The Battleship Potemkin, which I think says it all. The dog didn't like it much, either.

So, as with yesterday, what have we learned? Nothing. Except that werewolves are better than weremoths and Joan Collins is a cow.

The joy of sloths

There's a risk that this post may upset those readers amongst you who subscribe to creationist theories, as it is going to make continued references - both explicitly and implicitly - to the theory of evolution and the planet Earth being more than 4000 years old. Sorry about that, but it's arguable that you have bigger problems than just this blog post if that is the case. You maniac.

One of my very favourite things about being a human being is that you get to live on Earth and that means you are sharing the self same small celestial rock that used to be the home to dinosaurs and GIANT GROUND SLOTHS. There's very little that makes me happier than a sloth, and the idea of a giant ground sloth lumbering around the place is simply thrilling. These animals were the size of elephants, plodding around, being sloths. It's a buy one, get 99 free sloth extravaganza. Hitting the sloth coupon book hard.

A giant ground sloth, yesterday. Geologically speaking.

The joy of the giant ground sloth is only just beginning, though. There are two more cherries on this particular delicious fuzzy giant cake.

First is co-evolution. If you've ever eaten an avocado or a mango, you owe it all to these now extinct giant animals. Fruit plants propagate their species, of course, by having their seeds inside their edible fruit pods. Lovely hairy animals come along and wolf down the tasty goodness and then wander off to do a crappins. The seed is therefore spread far and wide and even has its own rich and fertile starter growbag of poo to help it along. But how do you spread your seed (hur hur) far and wide if it is the size of an avocado's or a mango's pit. You need an animal gigantic enough to swallow a your fruit whole (and with a bunghole big enough to plop out the seed hole, too).

The theory goes that this necessary interdependence has led to such evolutionary anachronisms. So, hats off to animals like the giant ground sloth. They did a lot of the leg work (and the bottom work), just for long enough for a Mexican to come along and discover the potency of guacamole, then start to cultivate their own avocados without needing a slotharse. Unfortunately for the sloth, this co-existence with early man is likely to have caused their ultimate extinction. Because, obviously, you can't eat guacamole on its own.

Secondly, Mapinguari. Yes, some people believe that the ground sloth is not extinct at all, and still yomps around the forests of South America, pooing avocado trees out of its bum. Now, it's easy to be cynical here:

"...as a 1937 report from central Brazil claimed a mapinguari had gone on a three-week rampage, killing over 100 cows and ripping out the tongues from their carcasses. However, in all accounts it did not eat humans, although when it smells the presence of people it stands up on its back feet, becoming as tall as two metres, a movement similar to grizzly bears."

Of course, the common sense explanation for this is it's more likely to be a rogue population of bears - a currently existent animal - rather than a hitherto undiscovered pocket of an animal unknown to science beyond the fossil record. Not to mention the likelihood of slothful behaviour from a slothlike creature - presumably a giant ground sloth would need lots of giant ground naps and therefore would be fairly easy to stumble upon in rainforest clearings. Surrounded by dead cows and avocado trees, I would expect.

But I'm not going to be the one to do a avocado poo on this parade. The joy of cryptozoology (which regular readers of my blog will know is a subject that fascinates and excites me in equal measure) is in the fun of speculation, of possibility and of the unknown.

So a salute to our ground sloth cousins. They crapped out avocados and the ones who live in Bolivia shriek like stuck pigs, stink the place out and have great long matted woolly tails. A salute, too, to their smaller modern day cousins, why not. They are awesome.

A Tuesday Monster

Godzilla, slight return

Godzilla - your questions answered

I am an expert on Godzilla. I have seen at least three different Godzilla films, not including the fact I've seen both the original Japanese and the updated original with added American scenes starring Raymond Burr as a scientist called Steve Martin. Also, I decided this morning that I was an expert on Godzilla. These days becoming an expert really is as easy as that. As long as you tick the right box on Wikipedia, you can be an expert on anything.

Being generous of spirit, I decided to use my newfound expertise on Godzilla for good and answer any questions that my loyal readers may have about Godzilla, plus the definitive answers to some more standard and basic questions. Thanks to all those who asked questions. Bigger thanks, in many ways, to anyone who didn't. I can only apologise in advance for what is about to happen.

What colour is Godzilla?
Many people believe that Godzilla is green. However, when in doubt, I always think you should return to the original source material. It's fairly clear from that that Godzilla is in fact dark grey.

What sex is Godzilla?
Opinion is largely divided on this thorny issue. Godzilla-watchers everywhere eagerly watch Godzilla's undercarriage to see if Godzilla ever does an egg or pops a boner. Until then, it's hard to make a definitive call. I think of Godzilla as female, like Mother Earth.

How does Godzilla get such powerful thighs?
Step aerobics.

Godzilla: HONK

And now onto your questions:

What was the name of the bloke in the rubber suit in Godzilla Raids Again and what did he have for lunch on the third day of filming? (@NobbyNobody, via Twitter)
The actor essaying the role of Godzilla has changed many times, but in the early Toho Co. films it was almost always Morris Woodman, a British-born character actor who found himself working in Tokyo following World War II. On the third day of filming his wife made him a bento box but he forgot it and was forced instead to bum a Billy Bear luncheon meat sandwich off of his co-star Minoru Chiaki.

What is Godzilla's view on Scottish Independence? (@ajholman, via Twitter)
Godzilla is in fact of Scottish extraction, Godzilla's grandmother having been Agnes Godzilluch. Godzilla believes that, whilst independence is broadly speaking a good idea, it would be better as a graduated process of devolution rather than a clean, sudden split.

Does Godzuki prefer Dairylea or real cheese? (Neil Porter, via Facebook)
Like all Godzillas, Godzuki is not fond of any dairy products. But if pushed, Godzuki favours a Dairylea Lunchables with a tram for dipping.

How much Um Bungo can Godzilla consume in a single sitting? (Chris Leate, via Facebook)
As with many of us, not as much as Godzilla used to be able to. At Godzilla's peak, Godzilla could happily drink up to 800,000 gallons in a single sitting. But bladder capacity is a variable thing and drinking that much now would have Godzilla having to get up every twenty minutes all night to pee. Also, Godzilla's dentist advises against too many fruit drinks. 300,000 gallons.

How large are Godzilla's testes? (Nina Tame, via Facebook)
This of course begs the question re. the sex of Godzilla. However, there must be a male Godzilla somewhere or there wouldn't be any more Godzillas, so... Testicle size is inversely proportional to the fidelity of the species. The greater the monogamy, the smaller the testicle tends to be. Given the relatively small numbers of Godzillas, monogamy is rather thrust upon them, meaning Godzilla has surprisingly small testes considering Godzilla's huge stature. The left one is the size of a Ford Iveco lorry, the right one is slightly smaller.

What is Godzilla's morning hygiene and style routine? (@gazbeirne, via Twitter)
The key thing to remember is that Godzilla lives in the sea. It's a harsh environment for the skin. So the first thing Godzilla does in the morning is to apply moisturiser and then a natural mud pack whilst Godzilla brushes Godzilla's teeth. After that Godzilla favours a shower to a bath and prefers Original Source Mint shower gel if Godzilla can get it. Godzilla usually can. What many people don't know is that Godzilla wears a subtle amount of eyeliner to bring out Godzilla's cheekbones. Godzilla favours Black Magic 161 by Rimmel.

When Godzilla is playing football, does he like the ball to feet or is he more of a stick-it-over-the-shoulder-and-I'll-chase-it kind of guy? (Colin MacKenzie, via Facebook)
Godzilla has lost a yard of pace over the years, but Godzilla's natural attributes of height and atomic strength make Godzilla an ideal target man, so Godzilla is generally more comfortable with the ball in the air.

Am I right in assuming that, as a reptile, Godzilla owns the largest cloaca on the planet? (@ricomonkeon, via Twitter)
Yes.

Did Godzilla get on with Gamera behind the scenes? (@sinistergiraffe, via Twitter)
No, Godzilla did not. Whilst Godzilla's friendship with Mothra when the cameras were not rolling is fairly well-known, with many stories of over-indulgence in the bars and clubs of Tokyo to attest to it, Godzilla and Gamera had an at-best thorny relationship. It was not helped when Godzilla loaned Gamera 1000 Yen to pay off a gambling debt and Gamera was slow to repay. Towards the end of their time together, many of the fights between Godzilla and Gamera that made it to the screen were in fact largely unscripted.

Gamera: Gambling problem

How much wood would a Godzilla chuck if a Godzilla could chuck wood? (Jason Burt D'arcy, via Facebook)
Twenty wood.

Who would win in a fight, Godzilla or The Iron Lady? (@robmanuel, via Twitter)
In spite of Godzilla's many advantages - height, weight, atomic strength, continued radioactivity, laser eyes and fire breath - The Iron Lady would by no means be a pushover. Her handbag contains a pretty weighty volume of the writings of Hayek, plus egged on by Keith Joseph and Willie Whitelaw, she is likely to fight dirty and exploit any weakness in her opponent. Godzilla, on a split judge's decision.

Is he a dog or a cat sort of monster? (Nina Tame, via Facebook)
Like many solitary, creative, people, Godzilla really prefers cats to dogs. Godzilla does not enjoy the forced socialising in parks that dog ownership can often entail.

Does Godzilla have any swaps for the 1996 Panini Football album? I'm missing Ian Rush and a couple of shinies. (Andy Lancaster, via Facebook)
Godzilla has little time for sticker collecting what with Godzilla's charity work taking up most of Godzilla's evenings. Also, Godzilla finds that Godzilla's album gets wet under the sea. But Godzilla does have a foil Coventry City badge sticker if that's any use?

Does Godzilla keep his ketchup in the cupboard or in the fridge? (Sarah Carter, via Facebook)
Godzilla is always mindful of food safety and favours the fridge once Godzilla's ketchup has been opened. Although during spells of cold weather, Godzilla doesn't mind moving the ketchup to a cool cupboard after it has been opened if there's no room in the fridge. Before it's been opened, a cupboard will do.

Does Godzilla want a cuddle? (Edward Peacock, via Facebook)
Yes.

What would be his preferred make of car to use as rollerskates? (Iam Mudrock, via Facebook)
Godzilla used to favour Hondas, as a result of a long-standing marketing tie-in. Since that expired, however, Godzilla favours the Kia, which Godzilla claims has the softest roof.

How thick is the shell of a Godzilla egg? (@5olly, via Twitter)
Half an inch.

Mothra: unpredictable

How many teeth does Godzilla have and what toothpaste does he use? (@5olly, via Twitter)
Most Godzillas have 48 teeth. 26 on the top jaw and 22 on the bottom jaw. However, Godzilla lost one in a fight with Mothra, so Godzilla only has 47 teeth. Godzilla favours Colgate, which offers Godzilla 24 hour protection from plaque.

Who does Godzilla think is the best expert on Godzilla? (Must be human) (@5olly, via Twitter)
Until his death, Russell Harty. Since then, me.

How big are Godzilla beans? Does Godzilla get beaned? (@davidwhittam, via Twitter)
Godzilla, unlike the domesticated horse, does not accumulate "beans" of smegma in Godzilla's urethral opening, as it is better designed. Godzilla did get beaned until 1984, when Godzilla was forced to reveal that there was no need for it to be done and Godzilla just liked it.

Does Godzilla lie about his tea? (@5olly, via Twitter)
Once Godzilla claimed that he'd eaten Yokohama for his tea when in fact it was Chiba. However, this may well have been a geographical misunderstanding rather than an outright lie.

What word games does Godzilla like to play? (@alicestronaut, via Twitter)
Many of the monsters of movieland favour Scrabble but Godzilla is very much Godzilla's own Godzilla and instead prefers the card game Lexicon. Godzilla also likes Boggle and joining Mothra in a game of consequences between takes.

When battling Mothra why doesn't Godzilla turn on a giant booby-trapped bedside lamp? (@matsimpsk, via Twitter)
Godzilla has a keen sense of fair play. However, if Godzilla ever felt that Mothra had itself fought in an underhanded way, then Godzilla might do just that.

What does Godzilla think about GM foods? (Caroline Marshall, via Facebook)
As one might expect from any creature woken from a state of deep sea stasis by the meddling of man and his atomic bombs, Godzilla has great misgivings about GM foods and feels that whilst the prospect of increased yields and less spoilage is very alluring, there needs to be sensible caution exercised in the use of GM.

If Godzilla were a girl, who would her favourite designer be this Spring '12 season? (Anna Forster, via Facebook)
Godzilla keeps surprisingly well-apprised of all of the latest trends in ladies fashion, although Godzilla decribes Godzilla's own style as being more smart casual than dressy. Godzilla expects the 1970s look to be in and expresses particular fondness for Michael Kors.

Was Godzilla circumcised? (Megan Belcher, via Facebook)
Yes, but not intentionally.

Which Beatle, Muppet and Star Wars character was Godzilla's favourite? (Megan Belcher, via Facebook)
John Lennon, Fozzie, Han Solo.

Thanks once again to everyone who asked questions, to which you now all know the answers. If you need to know anything else about Godzilla, just make it up.


Addendum:
I've had some COMPLAINTS. Well, one. That I didn't answer all the questions. So here goes.

What is Godzilla's favourite biscuit? (@5olly, via Twitter)
Abbey Crunch.

When Godzilla last watched Titanic, did he wish he could rise up and bite Leonardo di Caprio's head off? (@5olly, via Twitter)
Godzilla has never seen Titanic, Godzilla does not really enjoy films with happy endings. Although Godzilla has seen the actual Titanic, on Godzilla's summer holidays.

Can Godzilla confirm or deny if Carol Klein sticks her parsnips up her bot-bot? (@5olly, via Twitter)
No, Godzilla cannot.

What does Godzilla think about last minute questions? And pies in lingerie? (Kev Beeley, via Facebook)
Godzilla is not crazy about either. Although Godzilla has designed a bra with mini Melton Mowbray pork pies covering the nipple.

What is Godzilla's opinion of the cartoon about him created in the 70s? Does he feel he was portrayed objectively? (@5olly, via Twitter)
Godzilla was not initially consulted about the cartoon being made which made Godzilla pretty angry. However, Godzilla's Agent and Godzilla managed to find a satisfactory deal where Godzilla had a veto over scripts and got to meet Scooby Doo. As such Godzilla was happy with Godzilla's cartoon portrayal.

On the new best thing

Yesterday I wrote about the best thing. I now realise I was a little hasty, I was not in full possession of all the facts. Because what is abundantly clear to me now is that the Mawnan Owlman is the best thing. Ever. No comebacks.

I love cryptozoology. I can't remember if I've ever written about that here before or not. I imagine I would have done. How could I not have? I am completely obsessed by it and the idea of unknown and undiscovered creatures living alongside us, mainly (it has to be said) subsisting exclusively on a diet which seems to be domesticated ovines.

However, not all cryptids are blood-sucking, sheep-worrying, hell demons with super powers. Some of them are rather more sedate and English. Like the Mawnan Owlman. The thing that really draws me to this is the picture made after the description of the teenage girl who saw it. Especially the shoes. It seems to me that Mr. Benn made himself some wings and an owl mask and went for a bit of a fly.

This is backed up by the fact that, unlike many cryptozoological phenomena - the majority of which will appear to countless generations over a period of several hundred years, presumably due to the longevity-increasing diet of sweet, sweet lamb - the Mawnan Owlman appeared For One Night Only. Like Sinatra. 17th April 1976. A key date in the study of Owlmen and Owlpeople everywhere.

Obviously, I look at cryptozoology through something of a sceptical prism. But I never want to be dismissive of it. It's these little unknown things which make life magical. And that is why it is DEFINITELY the best thing.