Day 9 of 183. 174 days to go.

I love that advert with Gordon Ramsey taking a baseball bat to the gateaux, jelly and hot dog, etc. At the moment, I too, feel like giving fattening foods such as those a real physical bashing with all of my might. All of those dreadful substances that i have gorged into my over-stuffed body. They're revolting. I hate them. And i want to beat their brains out. And smash their gaudy, grossly over-sized forms into smithereens.

I seethe with loathing. I am so angry with them for getting inside of me and destroying me. They, those cakes, crisps, breads and cheeses plant themselves in my cells and reprogram my body to turn into a different animal. An animal that becomes weakened and knows that it cannot live without them. Craves them. Has urges day and night to find them and stuff more of them into itself. Until the animals cells become over populated. And then all of the usual problems of overpopulations, such as overcrowding, lack of air, pollution, stress, apathy, rebellion, disobedience and violence are there to be dealt with.

The animal has been invaded.

The population never stops multiplying and instead grows and grows and grows. And the problems increase two-fold, three-fold, ten-fold, then eighty-fold. And so on. Commotions, Disagreements, Riots.

The animal doesn't withdraw, or become suppressed. No, the animal metamorphosises. It becomes like one of them, with the same urge to invade. It recognises its kin on the shelves of the supermarkets, petrol stations, and corner shops.

Their eyes meet and lock. They know that they have to be together. The animal obligingly stuffs them into itself. And each time that it does this, it is changed more and more.

The change goes on and on. Until eventually it is more of the population, than it is of animal. There is no hope. Fuilte attempts at regaining the territory have always resulted in severe screaming & verbal lashings, with back-handers, and other humiliations to the animal. Followed by a force of one-hundred-fold of further forced consumption - even long after everything has well settled down. There is no getting away.

Not only can the battle not be won, but the chance of victory in the war is none. The animal cannot win. There is no way of winning. It is powerless. And learns the art of conceeding. Inevitably, then, the two must learn to live together. Animal must learn to appease them. Must placate them. Must accomodate them. And say goodbye to personal hopes. By the time of the goodbye, those hopes have faded and wilted anyway and they disintigrate easily.

Every so often a foreign ship passes by. It glitters and shines. It always promises to uproot the alien populations and take them away on it's ship. Animal is pleased to see the ship and allows it to dock. In fact, animal gladly starts rounding them up, and even sometimes gets to help load the unwanted cargo onto the vessel of promise.

Time after time, the foreign ships fail. Perhaps they run out of fuel, or the vessel isn't big enough for the size of the cargo, or they are understaffed and can't cope with the brute force of that strong population. Sometimes the ship just becomes disinterested or distracted from the task, and sails off somewhere else, without even flinching over the broken promise and shattered dream.

Animal often sinks at this point. And usually, from a position of hoplessness, lets on board more of its invaders. In celebration of this new influx, the invaders may party all day. Sometimes for several days. There have been times when the parties have gone on for weeks.

Meanwhile, animal is dying.

Animal has used up all of its distress flares. They were sent out long ago, all one-hundred-thousand of them. Wastefully aimed at apathetic recipients who's eyes could no more see than Nelsons at Trafalgar.

Animal just has a weak alarm bell nowerdays, and a pale light that might flash, during invasions. The surrounding eyes and ears see, and hear, but curiously, they do not respond. Animals alarm carries on bleating regardless, like a field full of far-away sheep. And the flashing lights get seen as just a regular part of the animal, to each non-responder.

And another part of animal is dead.