Tag Archives: Moths

Moths Are People Too

Moths Are People Too

You awake thinking,

“Today will be the day that I won’t end up repeating a pattern of self-destructive behaviour”.

And you successfully go about your business all day long without deliberately whacking yourself against any bright glass objects.

Another humdrum day being a common moth isn’t so bad.

An ordinary day at the office
An ordinary day at the office

It’s not as great as being a lion and not as bad as being a bluebottle but it’s okay…

… until your sibling turns up.

You know, the beautiful one that everyone admires and thinks is so wonderful. Your sibling’s not actually doing anything that you’re not doing but suddenly you seem dull and unimpressive beside their spectacular and charming beauty that draws admiring glances from everyone who sees them.

Blanding into the background beside the glamorous sibling
Blanding into the background beside the glamorous sibling

And now you’re not even just ordinary any more, you’re positively ugly in comparison. People physically recoil from you, even though they try to entice your glorious sibling to land in their hands. They don’t seem to realise that there is virtually no difference between you apart from some colouring. In essence, this is racism on a primal sense-level.

People begin to accuse you of vile and evil (though not necessarily anagrammatical) acts. You try to tell them that you don’t actually eat their clothes but they won’t believe you. They want to believe bad things about you to justify their bigoted aversion to your looks.

And so you don’t go straight home like you know you should. You stop off for a drink to numb the pain*. And then another few drinks to make you feel better. And another few to avoid letting go of feeling better. And then another few ‘cos of some other reason that seemed like a good one at the time.

Nighthawk-moth.  Should have gone home hours ago
Should have gone home hours ago

And then you’re hammered and you have to try and make it home.

And just like hammered people, hammered moths have difficulty telling the difference between an open door and a pane of glass.

And just like hammered people, your thinking can be a bit askew when you’re drunk. And you just want to get home to your cosy warm bed. And you see something that looks cosy and warm and you think that must be the place. And you rush towards it but you bang your head on something and can’t get in, but you can’t figure out what’s happened so you try again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And, yes, it hurts – it even burns a bit – but the alcohol numbs the pain somewhat and, besides, you’re so close now to being in that wonderful-looking warm and bright and cosy place that it seems like madness to you to stop trying … even though it seems like madness to humans that you are continually banging yourself against a lightbulb.

D'oh! D'oh! D'oh!
D’oh! D’oh! D’oh!

And, just like people, you’ll wake up the next day with a sore head and the desperate hope that “Today will be the day that I won’t end up repeating a pattern of self-destructive behaviour”.

‘Cos a moth is just a plain-looking butterfly with a drink-problem.


* Technically the moth sups on fermented fruit, rather than knocking back bottles of beer and whiskey-chasers or alcopops, but you get the idea.

Montages by Ripley Trout from images by Ripley Trout except: Moth by dancesincreek from morguefile.com, Nighthawks by Edward Hopper (Art Institute of Chicago), Office by koushik from morguefile.com, Screenshot by mantasmagorical from morguefile.com, Beer by Alvimann from morguefile.com, Butterfly by Uwe H. Friese via Wikimedia file: Schmetterling_1a_neucc.jpg











Moths and Rockers

Moths and Rockers

Me and my sis were fightin like normal. Dad separated us and exasperatedly declared, “Ye’re as bad as the mods and rockers on Brighton Beach”.

I was young but I knew what rockers were. My Granny had one. Lots of old people did, which seemed odd ‘cos it was us kids who got most fun out of rocking-chairs. But it seemed unlikely, even to my young mind, that anyone would want to fight rocking-chairs on a beach.

I had never heard of ‘mods’, so I didn’t know that it was a word I didn’t know. I presumed the word was what it sounded like … ‘moths’. I knew what moths were alright. Every kid did. Moths were ugly stupid butterflies who ate clothes. They also had a habit of headbutting lightbulbs but, though that hinted at latent aggression, it didn’t explain why they’d be attacking grannies in rocking-chairs on beaches.

And how exactly would they go about it anyway? I envisaged a swarm of moths eating the clothes off of a granny while the granny knits furiously in order to create new clothes with which to cover herself faster than the moths can denude her. It was an odd image.

moths attack rocker
Moths attack a Rocker

Even odder if, as it seemed, this was happening to multiple grannies all across a beach. So I asked my Dad, “Why are they fighting rocking chairs?”. My Dad and my sister both burst out laughing (my sister was two years older than me).

I flushed red with embarrassment and started to run out of the room. My father caught me and managed to stop laughing long enough to explain that these ‘rockers’ were the ones we had seen on ‘Top of the Pops’ playing loud music, with long hair and wearing denim.

I wanted to ask why they were fighting moths but my sister was still laughing mockingly at me and I didn’t want to look stupid again so I wriggled out of my Dad’s grip and ran off to my bedroom.

Besides, now that I realised my mistake about the ‘rockers’, I felt that the rest of it made sense. The rockers on telly wore denim clothes that were covered in patches. Some of my clothes had patches from where holes had torn in them while playing football or climbing over fences. Initially I had assumed that the rockers were just very rough and careless in the way they played, or maybe that they were poor so their clothes were very old. But now I realised that they were obviously being constantly attacked by moths who must favour the taste of denim above all other materials. The rockers had evidently done their best to make-do and carry on, just covering the holes with patches rather than switching to clothes of some less tasty material like cordrouy or polyester.

However, one day, while on holidays at this Brighton place (why else would you be at the seaside?), the rockers were horrified to discover that these annoying moths had followed them all the way from home and were now attacking them even there on the beach. (I did wonder whether the rockers would still be in their jackets and jeans or would have changed into denim swimming-togs and denim bikinis).

moths and rockers on Brighton Beach
Moths and Rockers fight on Brighton Beach

The rockers had had enough and quite understandably decided to fight back. And so came to pass the sight of hundreds of rockers in patch-covered denim standing their ground on the golden sands and throwing vicious punches at the swarms of moths that enveloped them.

The fighting was every bit as savage as it was surreal. Locals ran for cover and barricaded themselves in their houses. The next day, they discovered that the moths and the rockers were all gone, –

… but the beach was littered with tiny wings and little bits of nibbled denim.


Source images in montages: beach by jari, chair by jdurham, and moth by dancesincreek, all from morguefile.com . Woman from National Library of New Zealand via knitsfacto.blogspot.co.uk/ . Brighton Beach pic via http://www.orvs.co.uk