2. The matter of being

Life was no breeze for poor Little Hairy-Harry. From his very earliest moments of living and breathing, he was forced to consider in sang froid the sticky circumstances in which he found himself.

Tucked away in his little hidey-hole, his eyes barely peeping out above the sandy ground, getting out, wriggling, or even the tiniest wave of the hand ‘hello’ were all ruled out. What with Little Hairy-Harry being an extremely proper individual, one can only begin to imagine the depths of his frustration. 

1. Coming into the world.

Once upon a time, on the fringes of a cauliflowery crater, smelling rather fiercely (of something other than cauliflower) and surrounded by crumbling hills, a teeny bum hair follicle was born. A little, baby bum hair. He was so small and pitifully runtish, they decided to call him Little Hairy-Harry (Hairy for short). 

Given his name, it would not be unfair to accuse his parents of a certain lack of originality, not to mention outright callousness.

‘Poor bastard! He’s going to get hell during breaktime at school one day…’ people said.

Let us grant his parents, if nothing else, some credit for their down-to-earthedness.