THE LION OF HAGGARD MIEN: A X-Special Exercise in Inclusivity

THE LION OF HAGGARD MIEN- A X-Special Exercise in Inclusivity

Once upon a time there was an old lion who lived in a small village somewhere in the South of England called Haggard Mien. It lay snuggled in the Dent Valley between the almost equally small villages of Upper Denture and Lower Denture. There wasn’t much to do in Haggard Mien so the lion spent most of his time either lying under the big oak on the village green or sitting at the bar of the only pub, the Fox and Fabulist, run by the agreeable landlord David Palin-Dromish. Most of the time was spent in companionable silence. During the week the place was almost empty; only at the weekend did it fill up with youths from a nearby town, and a few couples used the restaurant and sampled David’s speciality, roast wildebeest garnished with purple-sprouting broccoli.

Then one day a beautiful young lady came into the pub. At first she was a bit nervous about approaching the bar.

“He’s all right”, said David, “He’s got no teeth and a chiropodist attends regularly to trim his claws”.

“And when she’s on holiday I use my rasp”, added the lion.

The young lady was quite surprised at this.

“Oh I find rasps most efficacious”, said the Lion noting her reaction.

“No not that, just that you.. ermm..” (she didn’t want to give offence) “talk”.

“Well you see”, said the Lion “I identify as human. So I thought I had better learn a human language, and English seems the obvious choice. I’d heard a bit of it around the Serengeti.”

The young lady barely heard the details just the…

“You identify as human?”

“Oh goodness me yes. Don’t you know that these days anybody can identify as anything. We are what we say we are.”

“Of course”, said the young lady. She felt a little embarrassed as she’d had a man friend she’d had to explain precisely that to. He had been so bourgeois, and here she was falling into the self-same trap.

“My apologies”.

“Accepted”, and the lion gave her such a nice smile.

“But how did you leave the Serengeti?

“Oh that was long ago. I was taken from there to a zoo”.

“Oh how awful.”

“Not really”

“Human beings can be so cruel”.

“Lionesses even more so. They were fed up with me lying under my tree all day and not helping them hunt down our dinner”

“But they couldn’t…”

“Oh you don’t know the half of it, my child. Lionesses! One of them had formed a sort of attachment to David Attenborough. He of course wanted me to stay in the wild. But she made such a fuss that eventually he gave in”

“And he arranged a zoo for you.”

“Eventually. Most zoos prefer young lions they can breed from me more readily. But eventually Reykjavik accepted me. “

So he explained to her how he had been an exhibit in Reykjavik Zoo but when he had quite outlived his usefulness as a breeding lion he had been set free and put on a boat bound for his ancestral African home along with some redundant ungulates that could provide both companionship and food for him. But as the ship passed the tip of Wales a terrible souwesterly blew up and the ship was sucked into the Bristol Channel and ran aground somewhere in Gloucestershire. The lion wandered the land for some days before finding Haggard Mien to his liking.

“You see really it’s very cold up in Reykjavik, too cold for an old lion’s todger to work… Oh I do beg your pardon- that was rather coarse.”

“That’s all right”, she smiled. She was in truth fascinated by her old lion. She’d already become quite proprietorial.

“Do you want a drink?” asked the Lion. “David!”

David approached. The lion continued.

“You know if your parents had only called you Divid rather than David you’d be a proper Palin-Drome.”

“I know”, said David sadly as he dealt with the girl’s request for a double Scotch.

“Oh my word,”, said the Lion “And a pint of Lion’s Pride for me, David. And what is your name?”

“Sabine”

“Oh what a delightful one it is. Something to eat?”

“I am a bit peckish”, said Sabine.

“I recommend the roast wildebeest”, said the Lion “Though it was better when it was fresh”.

“Alive he means,” said David.

“Yes I used to like chasing them around the village green but the RSPCA put paid to that I’m afraid”.

“And how was Reykjavik?” asked Sabina.

“Well it was all right at first but the more human I became the more the other lions mocked me. It was my admiration for David that did it. Not David here of course.”

“No, David Attenborough of course”, said Sabine

“Not him either. David Beckham.”

“Oh you’re a football fan”

“Not particularly. It was what I read about his tidiness around the house that appealed to me. His wife left things all around the gaff and he was always clearing up. I became a stickler for tidiness and routine at Reykjavik.”

Sabine swallowed. A lion was one thing, an overly houseproud lion quite another.

“Cheers”, said the Lion.

Sabine came into David’s pub more and more frequently after that. And she and the Lion became ever friendlier. Then one day she found the old beast in a most pensive state.

“What ails you, Lion Auncient?”, she asked.

“You have become so important to me, Sabine, that I dread losing you”, he began

Why should you lose me?” the girl replies “I am going nowhere”.

“But this Brexit concerns me,” said the Lion “For I am an EU lion from Reykjavik and soon shall not be welcome here.”.

“Hmm”, said Roberta, thinking about this.

“I even wondered about marriage” said the Lion “but there are still old-fashioned folk who condemn cross-special unions”.

“Don’t worry about them”, said Roberta.

“But again,” continued the Lion “I am beginning to identify less and less as a lion. It is so long since I have been with others of my kind”.

“Exactly”, said Roberta”. “Identity is not fixed. There are many nowadays who self-identify and defy their biological origins”.

“That is good,” said the Lion. “So.... “ he hesitated “So maybe we should discuss marriage, just discuss it mind you, in theory”.

“Oh yes yes,” said Roberta, most enthusiastically.

“Yes what”

“Let’s get married”

“What- just like that?”

“Just like that”.

Goodness me thought the Lion. That would be very nice but.... a bachelor Lion for so long.

David had overheard their conversation and told of them of an old licence issued to the pub in the reign of Henry VII that allowed the landlord to perform marriage ceremonies. So two regular customers of the pub, Mr Wilde and Mr Beest, were prevailed upon a to act as witnesses, not it should be said without misgivings for they were both the sons of an ungulate cast ashore with the Lion who had unfortunately eaten their father on the long trip to Haggard Mien. He felt terribly guilty about that now, but they had found it in their hearts to forgive him. And so the Lion of Ragged Mien married the lovely Sabine.

At the Fox and Fabulist they enjoyed their wedding supper prepared by David. Roberta started to giggle.

“What are you laughing about?” asked the Lion.

“Reykjavik” she said, “Is not even in the EU”.

“Oh,” said the Lion and he scratched his head in perplexity.

“But it’s too late now. We’re married” grinned Roberta.

And there was nothing else for it but for them to live happily ever after.

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