You Know What They Say About Big Feet?

Chequers, Coal Aston

Strange things are afoot in Dronfield. Something smells funny, as reports come in of a wandering sole roaming the vicinity between the Wacky Warehouse and that shop on Chesterfield road [one of the many] which radically changes every couple of months. (I think it is currently a fancy-dress shop, although it could possibly be an estate agents or another hairdressers.)

Bigfoot is here.

But fear not citizen! DronfieldDigital has enlisted the aid of [allegedly] expert wilderness survivalist and enthusiast, Alan ‘Badgerprey’ Linker, to instruct you on how to stay safe in the event of an encounter. (We tried to get Bear Grylls but he was somewhere in the jungle bestriding a panther and unnecessarily ingesting inappropriate things. Ray Mears was probably elsewhere doing something severely unexciting.)

Alan’s extensive knowledge of the birds and the beasts between Moss Valley and the old petrol station in Unstone is unparallelled. He owns several books about mammals and has watched all the extras to Sir David Attenborough’s masterpiece, Planet Earth*. He also has many disfiguring scars to validate his familiarities with animals, so you know he’s legit.

Bigfoot (or ‘sasquatch’) has been described as ‘ape-like’, approximately 2-3 metres tall and covered in dark hair. He usually resides in the Pacific North-west region of the USofA and is definitely not a bear. The reason behind his peculiar name remains a mystery.

Scientists deny the existence of Bigfoot, saying he is merely a fabrication of legend and hoax, but I don’t believe them because they also told me that cows can’t see green. So how do they know where the grass is???

So are we dealing with the genuine article, or is it merely a roguish local entertaining the wares of the aforementioned potential fancy-dress shop? Who knows. But in the timeless words of Benjamin Franklin, “By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail get eaten by a bloody massive sasquatch.”

Bigfoot has been maliciously terrorising rednecks for centuries with his gentle temperament and elusive nature. DronfieldDigital spoke to mountain-man Billy-Bob Judd for the latest, he was completely incomprehensible due to a distinct lack of teeth (Bigfoot probably stole them), but we’re quite sure he used the words ‘unpleasant’, ‘odourous’ and ‘troublesome’. Regrettably, we were ushered off of his ‘properdy’ at gunpoint before we could inquire further.

No reports of sasquatch attacks have ever been made, presumably because no survivors have ever been found: Needless to say, he must be annihilated.

So what’s the best course of action in case you encounter Bigfoot in the back garden or possibly at Greendale shops?

Alan reckons that the best defence is a good offence; you need to play his obvious vulnerabilities to your advantage:

  • If history and drunken women have taught us anything, it’s that the single greatest offensive manoeuvre is excessive hair-pulling. And this nine-foot nocturnal nightmare is MADE OF HAIR, go for the face.
  • The name ‘Bigfoot’ tells us two things:
    • He has BIGFEET, and BIGFEET have BIGTOES and the only thing more painful than actually dying is stubbing your toe. So grab the nearest blunt object and send those little piggies crying all the way home. [Pro-tip: Scatter some lego blocks in the vicinity for extra bipedal pain.]
    • He is inexperienced in the realms of name-calling. ‘Bigfoot’, in the grand scheme of things, is not a particularly abusive moniker. Get creative. Make lewd comparisons that would shame your parents and exploit every characteristic which you are lucky enough not to share.
  • And lastly, if the follicled-fiend is notorious for any aversion, it would be his blatant distaste for photography, and nowadays almost everybody has some form of camera on them at any given moment. Now, while the furry fool is still floundering in both physical and emotional agony, take as many snaps as you can, stick them on facebook and tag all of his friends in them.

And that’s pretty much the long and short of it, good old fashioned pugilism is not advised against a half-tonne hairball, but on the bright-side he is probably quite flammable. Guns would probably work too.

Alan will soon be offering sasquatch-safety classes for those of you who would like to learn more, he also hopes to publish his first book shortly, ‘Squirrels – A glimpse into Dronfields diverse wildlife.’

The only question left unanswered is why Bigfoot ever left his native habitat for our unassuming neighbourhood in the first place. Up until now he has been living a life enviable of anyone; 24/7 pine scented freshness, limitless toilet facilities and all the hillbillies you can eat. Why give it all up for a few smatterings of substandard greenery and a couple of playing fields? A town swarming with hairdressers and the commercialism of seemingly self-replicating supermarkets would surely be misery for the long-haired lummox.

Some researching later, the answer hit me like a rhythm stick; according to sightings, sass’ did a lot of his ‘squatching in the sixties (he was going through a phase) and he is renowned for his thundering cry, which resonates the nearby treetops and hunters bowels. But what does Dronfield have which was prolific in the summer of love, with vocal prowess to rival any beast?

Only one man fits the bill:

Dave Berry. (Visionary. Artiste. Yeti-fodder.**)

I’m still unsure of Bigfoot’s motives with our Dave, whether they be blood or breeding, but one thing is for certain, no-one is safe. I propose we oil up Mr Berry and tie him to the peel monument, when Bigfoot shows up we’ll drive him out of town Mary Shelley style (I’ve been waiting for weeks to brandish my new pitchfork) or we can find out what Bigfoot tastes like (which is genuinely a crime in the state of Washington). I assure you, Dave will be unharmed and returned to his fans fresh as febreze in time for the next Party in the Park.

Any similarities to people living and still performing or fabled is purely a coincidence and the opinions expressed in this article do not reflect those of the author. Bigfoot is a gentle giant, who appears unto us only when we need him most. He is the white power ranger (and Sir Attenborough is the pansophical Zordon.)

Bigfoot is real.

* the television series, not the actual thing.

** Bigfoot and the yeti are often mistaken to be one and the same, the difference is mainly geographical. British Colum-bein’ home to Bigfoot. Whereas the yeti, him-a-layan’ low for now in Nepal.

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