Yesterday I was in the London Borough of Waltham Forest where, for the third year running, I was a judge at a science debate competition. Teams of youngsters from secondary schools across the borough pitted their oratory, rhetoric and critical thinking skills against one another on a scientific issue of the day. In previous years we’ve covered nuclear power and climate change. Yesterday the house debated the pros and cons of stem-cell therapy. It’s a great day out for all concerned, and I am always heartened by the work that the students put in, notwithstanding inasmuch as which as this is very much the Inner City, and the pupils come from a plethora of backgrounds, and some do not have English as a first language.
It’s also very heartening that schools are beginning to recognize that formal public speaking is not just for the toffs at Eton, but can be a valuable part of anyone’s day-to-day skill set. So, hooray to the organizers for bucking the trend one sees so much elsewhere, that pupils fail less from innate unintelligence than by poverty of expectation.
I was also pleased to see that the members of the winning team each get, as a prize, a copy of Ben Goldacre’s Bad Science, a book which, I’m ashamed to say, I’d not yet read. So I snarfled a spare copy and took it home with me on the train. Even though I am not yet halfway through, I can safely say that it’s a revelation, and leaps straight to the top of my personal all-time-great science book chart, eclipsing even Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything, Climbing Mount Improbable by He Who Must Not Be Named, and even The Cuvier-Geoffroy Debate by Toby Appel (seriously, a wildly unappreciated classic that someone should make into a film).
If Bad Science doesn’t do everything from curing the national debt, fostering world peace, filling all the potholes in the byways of Norfolk, and leading everyone to a more fulfilled life full of love, appreciation, copious sex and as many Jaffa cakes as one could eat, then Freddie Starr can eat my hamster anytime. And, if Mr Goldacre is reading this, he is welcome to quote me.
I was struck in particular by this footnote on the bottom of page 161, which I shall quote in extenso, and moreover, in full:
‘Nutritionist’, ‘nutrition therapist’, ‘nutritional therapy consultant’ and the many variations on this theme are not protected terms, unlike ‘nurse’, ‘dietitian’ or ‘physiotherapist’, so anyone can use them. Just to be clear, I’ll say it again: anyone can declare themselves to be a nutritionist. After reading this book, you will know more about the appraisal of evidence than most, so in the manner of Spartacus I suggest you call yourself one too; and academics working in the field of nutrition will have to move on, because the word doesn’t belong to them any more.
No sooner said than done, sir. If you look at the little autobiographical box at the top right of this page, you’ll see that I now style myself as not just a Nutritionist (because anyone can call themselves that), but as a Celebrity Nutritionist, because I’ve been called a celebrity by none other than that most august body, the Natural History Museum. Well, Karen James, but she was working there at the time, and it was on one of her blogs, but I can’t find the post right now (It’s here – Ed.) But, hey, citation of non-existent references seems to be par for the nutritionist course, so why should I be any different? I do, at least, have a PhD., from a proper University, unlike some nutritionists I shan’t name, but Mr Goldacre does. Who cares if it’s in zoology and concerns the precise identification of fossilized bison bones? It’s a PhD, so I can call myself ‘Doctor’, though I tend not to do this outside academic company because it sounds daft; old ladies might come up to me and bore me about their arthritis; and it can lead to complications.
For example, I was on a plane just about to leave Mexico City for London, and I was in the worst possible seat – in the middle of a bank of five, my knees pressed firmly on the bulkhead in front. On one side was a couple with a small and agitated child on their laps. This, I thought, is going to be a long eleven hours. Just then a stewardess rushed into the cabin. “Dr Gee! Dr Gee!” she cried. Oh brother, I thought, the co-pilot is having a coronary and they’ll want me to help. My life is complete. But then she said “Would you like to sit in this spare seat over here, so this couple can have an extra seat for their child?” I thanked the stewardess gratefully, and took up the proffered window seat, which had lots of legroom, and enjoyed a pleasant flight home talking with a very nice young lady guitarist from Germany who’d been on a concert tour in Mexico.
But I digress.
As Mr Goldacre so convincingly shows, you can’t be a Celebrity Nutritionist unless you have some nostrum to peddle to the credulous public, the crapulous media and the Daily Nimbyist Bungaloid Curtain-Twitcher. Happily, I have just the thing – a nutritional supplement that’ll soon be in all good health food stores, marketed under my Alimentations Des Girrafes range (catchy, eh? And it’s in French, too, because you’re worth it).
It’s all about dietary fibre. You need fibre in your diet, because Science Has Proved that it speeds up transport time in your gut, so food doesn’t have so much time to hang around and fester, Engender Harmful Toxins and Cause Cancer. Fibre means perkier stools (I note that any celebrity nutritionist Celebrity Nutritionist worth their salt bank balance has to be obsessed with feces). And because fibre isn’t digested, if you eat a lot of it, it makes you feel full, which means that you lose weight. Fibre is a food that makes you thinner. So, all you saddo obese proles living on burgers ladies, the message is clear – Eat Yourself Thin with Fibre! No need for all those tedious workouts. But isn’t eating dietary fibre boring, I hear you cry? Won’t I have to eat loads of crispbreads that taste of cardboard, and really yucky vegetables?
No – that’s the trick, just two daily doses of my Rampant Wild Rabbit (TM) pills, developed from a concentrated source of natural fibre by Laboratoires Des Girrafes, will give you the recommended daily dose of natural fibre. No more tedious chewing through mountains of spinach and carrots. The solution is here.
Now, listen up, here comes the science part.
Millions of years of evolution have produced a creature that generates natural fibre already processed for our use – the rabbit. The free-range rabbits in the Jardin Des Girrafes crop grass using teeth microstructured ceramic-composite self-sharpening blades honed to perfection by generations of natural selection. The food is processed in their gut, and comes out, in convenient, odor-free pelletized form, as virtually 100% pure fibre. What’s more, this fibre is entirely natural. No nasty chemicals are involved.
But wait – there’s more.
Rabbits actually enrich this fibre by eating their poos and re-digesting them, filtering out any Harmful Toxins and concentrating this Natural Goodness still further – making an even more concentrated and effective dose of fibre, which is why just a couple of Wild Rabbit (TM) pills gives you as much fibre as a plateful of raw kale or two pounds of raw potatoes. And without all that peeling and cooking! And it’s a Detox, too!
And that’s not all. Those rabbits know a thing or two. After extensive, unpublished, uncontrolled research on very small sample sizes at Laboratoires Des Girrafes, we know that rabbits living free-range in the garden have longer, healthier, more fulfilling lives than those confined to hutches, eating unnatural foods and having no exercise (well, that’s what our vet told us, so it must be right). What’s more, if recent observations are any judge, they enjoy frequent and uninhibited sex. Why should teh bunnies have all the fun? With Wild Rabbit (TM) dietary supplements, not only will you lose weight and have a natural daily detox, you’ll live a longer, happier and more carefree life, with lashings of great sex.
All we at Laboratoires Des Girrafes have done is take these little pill-sized gems that Mother Nature has given us; dried them in naturally enriching sunshine (which neutralizes any Harmful Toxins the rabbit might have missed); added some natural food colouring to make the pills look pretty; boxed them up in some snazzy packaging; and made this miracle of nature available to you for only £10.99 for a pack of twenty.
Now – I wonder if anyone will fall for this guff?
Also, rabbits never get bowel cancer.
‘Rabbits never get bowel cancer’, says Noted Authority Professor J. W. of Australia.
Nice one, Henry. As you can imagine this is an area, er, dear to my heart…
Actually, the Boss and I often joke that if we both get sacked by the NHS and Univ respectively we should set up an Alternative Holistic Medical / Bio-Nutritionista Clinic.
Meanwhile, in addition to the RabbitPoo(TM), how about some nice Antioxidants (beloved of all Nutritionistas), as endorsed by that ageless Celebrity Count Dracula?
That’s odd. I thought the Count got all his nutrition from organically sourced virgins. You know, the ones they squeeze to make extra-virgin olive oil.
Yes, in the article the Count does refer to eating organic:
And I’m sure anything “extra virgin” must be just packed with antioxidants…
PS – serendipitously, it was only t’other day that I was telling Junior #1 (aged nearly 7) that rabbits eat their own poo. She refused to believe me.
I originally discovered rabbits’ habbits from reading Ronald Lockley’s The Private Life of the Rabbit, which I was inspired to buy by reading Watership Down (remember that?) as a kid. Also inspired me to insist on having a pet rabbit, but that’s another story.
First, rabbits use carefully arranged, organic hydroxyl apatite hexagonal pyramidal crystals to cut the grass, thus synergizing the resonance wavelength of the grass into the pellets. The pyramidal crystals also help focus the cosmic energy of the sun, as the ancient Egyptians knew (you must have something ancient).
Second, £10.99 is too cheap, go for at least £19.99 plus p+p for a pack of twelve (to make calculating cost per pellet that much harder to calculate by the hard of understanding).
I see – it’s the pyramidal shape of the crystals that explains why rabbits’ teeth are always so sharp. I see it now.
For example, I’ve never heard of a worm that has a cold or that he has gotten sick. Perhaps we should have the worm diet, eg. Humus feed, Probably we will be able to have lives longer.
You know, I think Alejandro’s on to something there. And just imagine what worms you could breed by nourishing them on a diet of rabbit poo!
We do have a wormery in the Jardin Des Girrafes. We give the worms food scraps and occasional clots of pet hair, and they produce a kind of brown gold that is fabulous for germinating seedlings … and a liquid fertilizer that’s great for tomatoes when diluted by 15:1 (the neat stuff’s too powerful). I wonder if this could be marketed as a health drink? I’d call it Andean Rocket Fuel, as recommended by the Noted Authority, Dr Alejandro Correia of Chile.
Corpulent Coprophagy, that man! By the way, what is the difference between a buffalo and a bison?
If I had a pound for every time somebody asked me that question, I’d have about £896.
They taste different?
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You’re missing only an easy way to pay for this extremely convincing miracle of nature.
You know, it just might work
I would think you might benefit from “a testimony” from someone who states “I felt bloated and bad, but with Wild Rabbit ™ I am more envigorated than ever”. you know, or maybe just show the Maison de Giraffes running around happy and smiling as a living proof that you feel well? (Although, it seems very private – probably better to have a generic male/female who looks sad in the first frame and then supersmiling in the last)
Dr. Alejandro Correia of Chile is, I believe an Expert Nutritional Expert of High Renown(TM).
Also – I can clarify Mike’s question. Buffalo – big honkin’ cow thing, found in Africa and Asia and other places, likely to trample and/or gore you if you bother it. Bison – big honkin’ cow thing, found in North America where not previously hunted to near-extinction, likely to trample and/or gore you if you bother it.
Generally speaking, the fine distinction between the two is not worth worrying about if you’ve got a horn stuck in your midriff and a hoof on your forehead, though. Also, both taste of beef.
Bad Science is indeed Teh Awesomez (my review is here). I think it should be compulsory reading, and indeed I’ve practically forced some friends to read it by leaving it at their house and then asking them every week if they’d read it yet (they had a newborn at the time and were starting to be swayed by some of the anti-vaccine crap).
Incidentally, I once tried to feed my sister some rabbit pellets I’d found on a hike in the North York Moors, telling her they were chocolate-coated raisins, but she was just old enough not to fall for it.
cover them in CHOCOLATE. Cath, that’s genius. I’ve now nearly finished Bsd Science and am now convinced that all state funding for humanities should be withdrawn, and that parents who refuse to vaccinate their children should be prosecuted for neglect.
You could market the chocolate-coated ones as being from the Easter Bunny
of Doom.Hey – do you want to join Laboratoire Des Girrafes on a percentage, as Creative Consultant?
Ooh, yes please!
Wait, a percentage of the profits, or of the product?
Fabulous stuff Henry – laugh out loud funny!
Oh, and I believe it’s Dr Goldacre…
Ho hum. Maybe he’s a surgeon.
A psychiatrist, I think
(Inspired by Stephen’s tweet) – Can we do the nutrionist’s Spartacus?
I’m a nutrionist!
I’m a nutritionist, and so is my wife.
Me too!
Apologies for another bit of blatant pimping, but as we’re on the subject can I cross-plug my old favourite the First Nutritionista’s Song? Fans of Gilbert & Sullivan (to whom apologies) will spot the allusion.
BTW, one danger of suggesting inherently ridiculous things for the Alt.Nutrition enthusiasts is that you then turn round and find someone offering the same thing, in all seriousness, out there on the Interwebz. Have we actually checked there isn’t a Woo-Loon out there offering rabbit poo as a remedy/supplement? After all, one understands there are people who advocate Urine Therapy (really).
That had occurred to me as I was writing the post – someone would crawl out from under a stone and accuse me of stealing their perfectly serious idea to feed people with rabbit poo. But no matter. I can haz guinea-pig poo as a backup.
Nice thinking. As expected, a quick Google establishes that guinea pigs, like rabbits, are coprophagic caecal fermenters.
i wish you would stop recommending books, herself is starting to complain.
I guess you could always wrap it in brown paper. Or buy a kindle.
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