I also liked the Jonesyesque tone of the reader comments:
quote:Another rabies film had the announcer explaining, in a chillingly matter-of-fact voice, that the wages of rabies is "death. Death in a manner that is beyond description." I was dubious, looked it up in an encyclopaedia, and remember being quite impressed that he wasn't exaggerating. Nimrod Gently
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There really isn't enough rabies around these days. It was all the rage when I was a kid in the 70s. There was a rabies TV drama that was right up there with Day of the Triffids for scaring the shit out of naughty little boys; police stations and doctor's waiting rooms were full of "DANGER YOU ARE GOING TO DIE DROOLING!" literature; hell, I even used to play 'Rabies!' with our golden Labrador, Sana. She was the best-behaved, sweetest-natured dog ever. The only time she was actually any good at 'Rabies!' was when I chased her around the house, climbed into her basket with her and repeatedly poked her in the eye until she finally bit me. "Rabies!" I screamed and then cried to my mum. Surprisingly, unlike the TV drama, mum didn't call the army and ask them to send round a character actor with five Doctor Who appearances to his name to shoot Sana with a rifle.
Instead, she snapped "you probably deserved it" and then stroked Sana's head.
posted
Killer bees were everywhere back then, too. And piranhas. You couldn't so much as nip down the paki shop for a Texan in the allegro without bumping into a shoal of piranhas.
I expect D.I. Sam Taylor will be forced to deal with killer bees before the end of this series.
HUNT: What the fuck is that?
SAM: [HOLDING UP THE TUBE] Blisteze. It was in my pocket when...I got it before I was transferred.
HUNT [SNATCHING THE TUBE AND DRINKING ITS CONTENTS DOWN IN ONE]: Hmm. Tastes like a French bird's flaps.
SAM: You idiot! That could have saved her life!
HUNT: Go with your instincts, you fucking twat shit.
A BUZZING NOISE IS HEARD FAR AWAY.
SAM: What's that buzzing? Hello? Hello?
HUNT: Fucking Hell! Bees! Run!
SAM: The buzzing! Someone's using a mobile phone in the hospital! Hello! Stop it! It's interfering with my life support machine. Help! Stop texting your brethren! Please. Stop. Texting. Your. Brethren. Rude. Boy!
SAM: Hello! He's sending a picture message of that nurse's breasts. Please stop him! No mobile phones in the hospital! No phones in the hospital. Help me!
A SWARM OF KILLER BEES APPEARS
HUNT: Run, you daft cnut fuck, before we're all stang to death like a fucking shit.
SAM: Pleeeease!
HUNT PUNCHES SAM IN THE FACE, THROWS HIM OVER ONE SHOULDER AND RUNS. HE BUMPS STRAIGHT INTO CHRIS.
CHRIS: Not that way, Guv. It's full of piranhas.
HUNT: Cnut!
THEY RUN THE OTHER WAY.
HUNT: I love you Sammy. Don't worry, Gene'll protect you.
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my mum knew a man called St. John who went hill- walking in transylvania with the International Dracular Society in 1972 and got bitten by a rabid dog! and had to have about ninetyquinitibillion injections all up his spine, given by hairy- foreheaded transylvanian local doctors. there is more to the story, but i think thats enough to qualify for 'most brilliantly ironic shit holiday story ever' dont you.
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posted
When I was kid, I thought if you got bit by a rabid animal, you too went rabid, and would run around, foaming at the mouth looking for someone to bite.
Also, I remember a poster that was on the walls of clinics and such. It was a sketched picture of a little girl sitting on the floor, holding her dolly looking all innocent as a MAD and CRAZY dog jumps at her, DROOLING JAWS ready to bite her face off.
The tagline was something like 'Rabies Kills Kids'
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