In Praise of Mud

Mud.
Mud.

Here in the Professional Moron office we like fun sounding words; “mud” is one of them. The product itself (which is a mixture of soil, clay, water, and bubble gum) is kind of annoying. It makes your pants dirty, ruins your shoes, gets your dog all filthy, traps your car, and if you fall over in it you really do look a bit stupid. On the positive side, you can have mud baths. This is, apparently, reasonably good for you. Rather! Sadly the negatives do outweigh the positives. If you’ve ever been to a music festival the most mentioned word is “mud”, followed by “groovy”, “far out, maaaan”, “Jimi Hendrix”, and “The queue for the toilets is too large, I shall use this person’s tent instead”. If any of you have heard of the legendary Woodstock 1969 gig, you may know of Hendrix’s festival closing performance. It has gone done as mythical. Yet, if you actually watch the footage, all you can see is mud and knackered hippies abandoning the whole thing. Yeah, just watch The Who’s LSD fueled earlier run instead.

Back to mud. You may wonder why we’ve decided to praise the mud. It’s not the stuff, it’s the word. Okay? We love the word mud in the same way we love cement, jam, cabbage, cake, cheese, sheds, and marmite. They’re strange sounding and, frankly, great fun to mutter at people. Next time someone you know says, “How was your day, dear/mate/love/darling/honey/moron/freak/dude/loser?” respond with a patronising smirk and announce flatly, “Mud”.

Have some gibberish to dispense with?

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