The Wolf Who Became A Granny Tranny. Or, Whatever Happened to Little Red Riding Hood?

While on the subject of nursery rhymes I’d like to put the tale of Little Red Riding Hood under the microscope. A little girl walking through the woods heading for her grandmother’s cottage although as this was once upon a time in a galaxy far far away….oh hang on one moment….I may be getting slightly mixed up there. No she wasn’t one of the Jedi siblings from Star Wars was she? Ah that’s right, my investigations revealed Red now has ten children all by different fathers and is believed to be doing this just for the money it affords her from the state which she uses to pay for her severe crack habit. If her lovely old grandmother could only see her now. I mean her actual grandmother and not the wolf in a grandmother suit. How blind was this girl? She mistakes a big grey furry wolf for her own grandmother. I mean talk about getting it wrong. Okay so some grannies may have a bit going on in the facial hair department but when you take a wolf to be your grandmother surely that’s stretching it a bit too far? Had Red’s mother sent her with a picnic basket full of hair removal products?

Moving back to the story I’ll begin by mentioning that it is stressed very clearly, as clearly as the clear crystal of the Crystal Castle (which I don’t recall was that clear at all now I mention it) which is of course defended by the mighty She-Ra (He-Man’s twin sister) who I saw in the pub last week. She’d recently split up with her girlfriend so was considerably upset at the time drowning her sorrows in booze which is never the best way to cope with a relationship breakdown even if it may be the most common. I think I managed to cheer her up a bit and almost convinced her to come for a curry with me afterwards until remembering she’s a cartoon not possessing the capacity to digest food. This reminded her she couldn’t drink real beer either so she left behind a huge puddle of it on the floor where she’d been sitting. No waste at this pub though as Benji the landlord’s domesticated aardvark was later seen licking up every last drop after which he began belching ferociously before collapsing like an elephant after a one minute run on a treadmill (picture it complete with sweat bands).

Anyway back to Red Riding Hood. The tale begins by explaining it took place at the time when all birds and beasts could talk just as well as you and I, ‘and nobody was surprised to hear them talk as I suppose one would be nowadays.’ This I pitch at both extremes. Whilst I find it extremely insulting in that it’s another great big whopper of a lie which of course as kids you don’t find out until much later (and by yourself for that matter) at the same time I thought it kind of nice they at least seem to tackle the fact animals in this story do talk. With that rhyme detailing the exploits of the laughing dog, the flying cow and the violin playing cat, none of these things were addressed were they? No precursor or warning of such strange behaviour from these animals that might aid us in not going rather insane. It all ended up like an advertisement for hallucinogenic drugs – and this for children!!!

So it is explained that the animals do talk but on the other hand nowhere does it stipulate they live and interact with humans. The little girl (although not quite so little now after giving birth to such a numerous litter of brats) toddles off to her grandmother’s cottage somewhere in the woods singing as she goes. Exactly what she was singing nobody knows but rumour has it this will be released on a forthcoming retrospective soundtrack entitled ‘The Music of Little Red Riding Hood.’ This should be available for download on iTunes in due course.

As she gets nearer to her destination she encounters the wolf for the first time who tells her he knows her grandmother – yeah right – picture it now him going round every Thursday for afternoon tea.

‘Mmmmm, grandmother I think I’ll have your leg on a sandwich with my tea please,’ licking his big wolf lips (okay so wolves don’t exactly have lips but are we certain in this crazy world that they did not at the time of this tale? I mean they do talk after all? Evolution is sometimes a strange thing). ‘That’ll be two sugar lumps for me please me darlin’ Adopting a contemplative expression on his big wolf face he might then add, ‘On second thoughts grandmother dear, no sugars for me as I have a dentist appointment tomorrow and he’s not going to be impressed with me for bingeing on grandmother body parts as it is!’

The wolf fools the little girl into racing him to the old woman’s cottage. What a dizzy bint? How stupid would you have to be? This girl seriously needed some kind of intervention. Naturally he arrives before her to lie in wait. When the girl arrives she finds she cannot get inside so has to be instructed in opening the door by her grandmother, alias the wolf dressed complete in granny clothes and hat to boot.

After finally gaining access to the cabin she comments on how bad granny’s cold must be to make her sound so hoarse. WHAT? This girl is deaf as well as completely stupid. She sounds like a bloody wolf god damn it because she is a wolf, where did the horse come into it? I’d like to know what horse she has spoken to or heard speak because from my experience these beautiful creatures talk so softly almost as if in song most of the time. I was regularly in the audience on ‘Sunday Morning with the Band of Horses’ just listening to them conduct and debate their equine politics for hours on end.

When Red finally walks into a very dark room granny is in bed with the duvet pulled right up to her head so fair enough perhaps she can’t see the wolf underneath. That is a pity because a big bad wolf in drag is quite a sight I can tell you, had me in hysterics for days when I saw the CCTV footage. It is known to most animals however that Thursday night is drag night at The Animal Inn, a place where the animal community gather together socially resulting in much merrymaking, frivolity and where it has been common to encounter wolves in granny drag complete with purple or blue rinse wigs if not wearing ever more elaborate hats. I do advise caution when planning a visit to this strange yet magical establishment if only to spare you the Pig N’ Dale strip show every other Tuesday, now that is a display to give the most hardy of folk nightmares for life.

What happened next in the actual story should really have given it away as the granny-wolf put out his big furry paws and began to open the basket the girl’s mother had sent. Of course in this basket there was hundreds of tiny flesh eating spiders that would have devoured the old dear so Red’s parents could move into the cottage and live happily ever after free from the evil old witch she’d become. Therefore in theory one might conclude the girl should’ve let the wolf open the basket and all would’ve ended quite well for her, but no they got chatting. The wolf probably imagining the girl roasted on a huge platter accompanied by mashed potatoes, peas and carrots. ‘Knew I should’ve bought along some mint sauce,’ he might have thought, ‘it tasted so nice on Little Bo Peep and those three little pigs…mmmmm.’

‘What great arms you have!’ the girl observed out loud still not twigging it was actually a wolf and not her dainty old-aged grandmother. Of course in those days most grannies had big grey bushy arms with paws at the end and no opposable thumbs. The wolf’s response was seemingly polite.

‘All the better to hug you with.’ This translated into wolf-speak literally as, ‘All the better to claw you to death, rip you to shreds before dicing you up to fit in the pot with a nice red wine sauce!’

‘What great ears you have!’ the girl continued observing these striking features. You think she would have realised on her previous visits her grandmother having these. And I’m sorry but the ears should’ve been a dead giveaway!! If not then they should have at the very least given rise to some level of concern given they protruded through the night hat. Further, by this time she must have now been looking at the wolf’s head yet still not recognising it was an imposter. Her poor grandmother is all I can say for she must have been one ugly hairy looking old lady.

More talk ensued as the girl continued noticing more and more alarmingly odd features until, ‘What sharp teeth you have!’ she cried, the penny finally dropping in her tiny brain after all she’d seen and heard thus far.

‘All the better to eat you with,’ shouted the wolf who wanted to tell her at length how he would prepare her like lamb and suck on her bones but after it took her so long to twig he was actually a wolf in granny drag he found himself no longer bothered for, ‘why should he waste his intelligence on someone so dense?’ he thought. It had been a very long day and he had had to wear old lady clothing on a day that was not Thursday (animals in drag night at the pub) so he would be a laughing stock as it was. I suppose that’s the price a wolf must pay for fame to get into one of these stories.

At that very moment the door to the cottage flung open revealing two tall heavily muscled and tattooed woodcutters bearing heavy axes. ‘Ok Miss Spooner,’ they bellowed enthusiastically, ‘which one of us gets to go first today?’

‘Or perhaps you can take the both of us at once if you’ve been taking your cod liver oil?’ added the second one. Well, perhaps Red didn’t grow up to be much different to her grandmother after all.

The two woodcutters actually killed the wicked wolf by gruesomely axing the creature and all in front of this little girl. Being as dense as she seemed she probably thought they were murdering her grandmother. She goes off in tears, understandable after such a near death experience and witnessing the brutal slaying of the wolf, to search for her actual grandmother who happens to walk through the door at that moment. It was her friend Mrs Hall who had been unwell so okay then everything is fine. Little Red Riding Hood will grow up to be a one parent slut due to this scarring incident but no harm no foul. Word has it those two wood cutters each fathered one of her children but due to the circumstances it is impossible to tell which particular kids and when.

As with all these tales they insisted everyone lived happily ever after but how can they even attempt to convince us this is true after what happened? The actual point from all this, if there is any point I suppose one might add, is the gruesome nature of these tales we tell to young children and the constant lies we weave about them.

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Interlude of Madness - There Once Were Flying Cows.

‘Hey diddle diddle the cat and the fiddle’

To begin with let’s take this one line by line. I remember when I was about three or four I sat and watched Willow, our cat at the time, for hours and hours on end hoping to catch a glimpse of her Vanessa Mae-ing it. I was of course left disappointed later coming to realise that even if she could indeed knock out a tune or two on an instrument she was just far too tired (and busy washing when she wasn't tired) to bother. ‘Liars!’ I thought. They tell us repeatedly how lying is such a bad thing, a vice, a habit not to be pursued and yet all through childhood it seems children are lied to endlessly. Then I grow up and (while under some influence or other I cannot possibly confirm or deny) meet Valerie the banjo playing badger which pretty much confirmed the whole truth that cats may well be able to play the fiddle after all.

‘The cow jumped over the moon’

Yes. A cow filled with enough helium perhaps, or one that could fly but cows stopped flying thousands of years ago when big smelly cow pats would fall out of the sky on unsuspecting passers by killing, often proving fatal.

Even when they could fly some just weren’t prepared for air or space travel. It was reported in the Annals of the Great Cow Dynasties that many flying cows who ventured as far up into space burned up in the atmosphere. As you should know cows are currently well known as a big contributor to methane emissions so this should not come as a surprise. Perhaps where irony creeps in is they would at times, depending upon how much gas was inside them at the time, create such beautiful firework displays that folk in the know would often charge tickets for the best seats. Naturally all the cow dung splattering around the world was considered to be a bit of a downside. Out of the cows that eventually did make it into space some have been sighted floating aimlessly about unable to steer their way to the moon (where if this dandy little tale is true they were heading merely to jump over it and back to earth), obviously because what they lacked were decent rocket boosters on their udders.

‘Wouldn’t look natural or organic,’ God has been quoted as saying in its defence. I’m betting it didn’t anticipate quite the number of deaths this flaw in the design plan caused, omniscient my backside! Probably why it took their wings away from them but to be quite fair this episode in their ancient history made them all very depressed. Hard to contemplate I do understand but stick with me here I am only relaying the facts (as written in the Annals of the Great Cow Dynasties) to you. Consider it. A clinically depressed cow. Some had it so severe they took their own lives.

How in the Universe does a cow commit suicide? I hear you ask. Well in the texts it says some hanged themselves in barns after dark while others would simply slit their udders. This was a gruesome period of time for cows. Some officials (officials of what no one quite knows but when one is a proper official complete with certificate of officiality it becomes difficult to argue with them) believe more cows perished during the ‘Great Cow Depression’ than died when they had wings and would forget to keep their wings flapping leading them to fall to the ground with an almighty thud. People died. 

‘The little dog laughed to see such fun’

Don’t even start me on this one. Dogs laughing? That’s as messed up as cats playing violins. And yes at the same time I was staring intently at the cat hoping to catch it with a fiddle (even just holding a fiddle might have appeased me), I was also spending equal amounts of time glaring at the dog, Max, waiting for him to burst into laughter. Never happened although I’m almost certain once I heard him bark at me, ‘what the woof you looking at? I want a bitch!’ I was a little startled but when running to my mother and relaying what Max had barked I was promptly sent to my room. I bet Max was in hysterics after that but I couldn’t see being confined to my room.

Let’s not forget in the rhyme the dog was laughing due to such fun he was witnessing. A cat playing violin? A cow jumping over the moon? This is fun? Messed up is what it is! All the dog does is laugh at this incredibly whacky behaviour from his feline and cattle compatriots. Should have stopped eating the meat he was being fed for it obviously had acid in it or some other hallucinogenic substance. Or perhaps he was a dog that liked the odd cheeky joint (not of the meat variety).

This next line needs just a tiny preamble because it is my ultimate favourite moving away from the animals doing trippy things, which yes is a bit out there but at the very least they are living things and can move and well okay they can’t exactly do the things the rhyme claims they did but......

‘And the dish ran away with the spoon!’

Exactly! This is where parents really take the piss don’t you think? A dish running? How precisely does a dish run? It’s a god damn dish they don’t have legs for starters and neither do spoons. I felt sorry for the knives and forks and the plates for they were really left out which led to the horrific cutlery wars of the middle ages (and by the middle ages I do mean in terms of the timeline of cutlery, not our own). Again thanks to the repeated lies of the big folk I’d often wonder in puzzlement why my breakfast bowl would not run when I wanted to watch it do so. I’d therefore throw it on the floor throwing my spoon after it as far as I could thinking, ‘If you’re not going to run fucking well fly!'

To follow: Whatever happened to Little Red Riding Hood?

Also to follow: Review of The Squirrel That Dreamt of Madness by Craig Stone.

Also also to follow: Review of Seth Lakeman 2011 gig & Fleet Foxes 2011 gig.

Music of the moment:

1.) Open the Door by Andrew Page - thanks to twitter.

2.) The Water's Edge by Luke Ritchie - thanks to twitter & his sister Charlotte who plays Oregon in Fresh Meat

Book(s) most recently added to the 'to read mountain':

Colour of Dawn by Amber Jerome-Norrgard.

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