Many years ago when I was about six years old I moved, with my family, to live in Hong Kong. I was there because my father, who was an officer in the British Army, had been posted to a remote barracks near the Chinese border. He was in command of several hundred Gurkhas, the fiercely loyal, feared, admired and efficient soldiers from Nepal, high up in the Himalayas. My father used to say that any one of the Gurkha soldiers under his command could creep up behind you and tie your shoe laces together without you knowing. If you did happen to realise what was going on the Gurkha was quite happy to slit your throat before you could complain.
Actually I remember very little about the three years we spent as a family living in the New Territories.
There are certain memories though that are as vivid in my mind now as they were forty plus years ago.
I remember for instance the night I heard a noise at the window of my bedroom and upon investigating discovered a fully grown Cobra staring at me through the wire mesh that separated him, or her, from me.
I also remember the day when me and my father trekked through the woods up a steep hill to look down upon the Chinese border guards patrolling the barbed wire fence that separated the state, province, or country of Hong Kong from the massive and scary communist country that was China.
I also remember the Chinese women squatting to do their business in the gutter and the fact that everyone seemed to spit colourfully all of the time. I can remember the night time in Hong Kong harbour and the evening we spent on a floating restaurant. I remember the guilt I felt having been asked to pick the fish that would be cooked for me to eat which was happily swimming in a basket hanging from the side of the floating restaurant. I remember pointing at a beautiful fish glistening with vibrancy and life swimming in that basket only then to see it being speared by the chinaman who had asked, unknowingly to me as a small boy, to condemn it do death.
However, perhaps the most vivid memory that I have of those three years spent living in Hong Kong is the memory of an old woman called Ah King. Ah King lived with us as an Amah (forgive me if the spelling is incorrect) and that meant that she looked after me and my sister, cooked, cleaned and did other domestic chores.
Being Chinese, with their preference for male children, I soon became her favourite. I was the only one in the family who was frequently invited into Ah King's living quarters which were in the basement. Whilst there she used to cook me Chinese delicacies and teach me how to count in Mandarin, a feat I can still manage today after all these years.
But there was another thing that Ah King used to teach me that I have never revealed to anyone. I have never revealed this to anyone because I have never been able to carry out the teachings that Ah King had passed onto me. Late in the evening she used to teach me the ancient Chinese art of mind control. Not only mind control, that would be hard enough, but the art of controlling a living being through another living being.
It is something that I have attempted many, many times in the past 40 years without success. The amount of times that I have felt totally in control of one of the dogs to such an extent that I feel that I can, through them, perform mind control over another living thing have been numerous but each time I have been unsuccessful,
Sure, mind control over one animal is easy. This I can do without a a problem. The thing I have been striving for over the years on an almost daily basis is to control one animal using another animal as the conduit. It is incredibly difficult and it is, according to Ah King, something only possible to very few 'chosen' people. To be honest I doubted that I would ever be able to master this highly individualistic and specialist skill.
However, today, I can reveal that for the first time I have finally mastered the art of ' Bah flung shmoc'.
The following two photographs, which have not been doctored in any way, were taken in one of our paddocks today. The young alpaca in the photograph is an 8 month old male weanling called Saracen. I have been working with Saracen over the last six months. Saracen was assessed by me at an early age using the ancient Chinese art of 'Bi-tchi'. This is the way of deducing whether an animal has the ability to channel forceful and manipulative thoughts and to project those thoughts with sufficient power onto another being to cause a dramatic affect. Saracen is the first animal that I have come across to possess these extremely rare abilities. He is a very powerful little alpaca.
I will say no more other than to ask you to view the following two photographs. The first depicts Saracen in the final stages of 'Bah flung shmoc'. Walking past Saracen is Josh, our lovely chocolate Labrador. I am standing a short distance away channelling my thoughts towards Josh, through Saracen. In short I have control of Saracen's mind and I am attempting to control Josh via Saracen.
Between the two photographs I fall to my knees as the stress of keeping up the state of 'Bah flung shmoc' for well over an hour take their toll. To be honest I didn't know for sure if Saracen could pull it off. I had been 'channelling' one specific thought to Josh, via Saracen, over and over. The thought command I was passing to Saracen was 'Fall over dog'. I was on the verge of giving up when the most amazing thing happened.
You can see for yourself in the second picture that we were successful. I now need to sleep, so does Saracen. Josh is already asleep.