This is a fish. (The thing on the left). You didn’t know they came like this, did you? You thought fishes came in ring pull tins, or little plastic, vacuum-packed pouches, or in thin, pink slices of wonderful smoky fishiness from the deli. But no, this is how they start life. Well, end life. And this one weighed in at 2.2 Kilos. A big fucker. Not quite a full ‘whale’, but on the larger side of edible fishes. And the deal in this restaurant was just brilliant. You pick your fish. You pick what spices, combinations, variations, whatever and then you choose whether you want it grilled on a… well, on a grill, or over coals or… baked in a tandoor. And the result is, in culinary terminology: fucking spectacular.

But that’s not the issue here. This is not just another ‘Andy’s eaten something fantastic and he’ll never share one bite with meeeee’, thing. No. This is about people. And how we behave, ‘in the wild’. From a purely behavioural standpoint. Like stepping back and observing the human animals like David Attenborough would, as they gather around a common ‘watering hole’, which in this case is a hotel swimming pool. How they claim their territory (and if you thought this to be just an ‘animal’ event, watch any German claiming his pool chairs at 5.45am). And whilst most animals mate ‘for life’, humans tend to buck this trend and go for 7 years or 3 kids, whichever comes first. Then they’re hanging it all out with their thong bikinis as they try to be alluring to the next potential mate.

And it all starts with observation. You see another ‘mating pair’ coming to a sun bed near you. And you have to make a split second judgment: do you smile welcomingly at them? Or blank them, scowl, do a lot of ‘tutting’ and just accept that as you’re never likely to be friends with these people, might as well get the hatred kicking off asap. You have to judge books by covers. And decide accordingly. The closest thing humans have to ‘plumage’ is my Spurs hat. But that’s only there to attract a ‘mate’ in the ‘pub crawl’ sense of the word.

And one couple, a few days ago, crossed by our hunting ground, where I was the ‘dominant male’, which is the one Mel’s yelling instructions at. And we didn’t like the look of them one bit. Blanked them totally. Unworthy to befriend. Both much too tall to be decent people; you can tell. But then they started chatting. In English. Even though she’s certainly not and he had lived in Germany long enough to speak to the Germans here fluently in their own tongue. Yet they live in Muswell Hill. So we went out to eat. To this fish place which they recommended. And may possibly now become our best mates EVERRRRR.

Ok, possibly not. But just goes to show. I just wish I knew what it was that it did show, so I might learn for next time. But I won’t.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx