Saturday 19 January 2013

Deadly Nightshade

Dangerous Spuds

      Years ago, my wife and I went to see a film called Black Christmas - the 1974 version. I think she was under the impression that it was one of these sweet Santa films the Hollywood studios produce three of before breakfast, like Ernie Wise's plays. However, it turned out to be about a nutter living in the attic of a sorority house. From what I recall, he kept sneaking down, bumping girls off and storing the bodies, wrapped in cling film, in the attic. Where anyone with a single brain cell would have burned rubber in the direction of, well, anywhere but the sorority house, the girls stayed there and waited their turn. Otherwise the film would have been too short. Anyway, my point is that it was pretty scarey.

      When we got home, my wife went in first while I put the car away. She hid behind the door then jumped out and said boo! as I came in. In terms of the Richter scale, the boo was pretty low down. Relate it to the film we'd just seen though, and you can see why it resulted in her scraping me off the ceiling. Later on, I was still thirsting for revenge and, as she was changing in the bedroom, stood on the lavatory seat and peeped over the door, looking along the landing and waiting for her to appear. She didn't, so I then tried a long drawn out wail and this resulted in her coming out, giggling nervously. As moving  towards me, she pushed doors open vigorously, checking each room. The 'vigorously' bit should have struck a warning with me, but it didn't and I waited, anticipating the shock I'd give her. When she got to the bathroom she paused,  'tee hee'd' girlishly, then gave the door a shove powerful enough to start an overweight Olympic bob-sleigh team. It hit me full on the chin and my foot slipped down the lavatory, causing my ankle to twist excruciatingly as I crashed down. Everything went black and for a moment I thought I'd gone round the u bend. However, it was just my loving wife looming over me.  Then she did that convulsion thing for a while, before going to get the Elastoplast for my chin. I still haven't got her back for that.

      All this set me thinking about how I'd murder someone. I wouldn't use the sorority bloke's methods - couldn't afford the Clingfilm. I'd go for something more subtle, like poisoning.

Woody nightshade (Solanum dulcamara) flowers


Woody nightshade fruit

      Deadly nightshade would probably be the first thing to come to most peoples' mind. The Latin name is Atropa belladonna and the 'belladonna' bit, meaning 'beautiful lady', comes from the fact that Italian women used to drip the juice into their eyes. It enlarged the pupils and improved their looks much more cheaply than a face lift. Perhaps some of these celebrities whose dimple in the chin used to be their belly button would do well to take note. Apparently, opthalmologists still use the same substance, atropine, to dilate the pupil and facilitate easier examination of the eye. The wise women of villages would make an ointment from the plant, rubbing it into their bodies in order to give them a feeling of flying. The wise women were witches, and I suppose this was a sort of L.S.D on broomsticks.

      Deadly nightshade is in the family Solanaceae and most relatives share its poisonous properties: woody nightshade, shown in the pictures, is a common hedgerow wildflower; potato, the humble spud, produces poison in the form of solanine if allowed too much light, causing it to go green, and it seems that all parts of the tomato, apart from the fruit itself, are poisonous.

      All of which leaves me wondering who found out? Perhaps if you came across a new vegetable or fruit that looked attractive, it would be the thing to bake it into a cake and give it to someone you didn't like, just to test it. That way, you either make a friend or get rid of one. It's the ultimate win-win situation..

      Anyway, if my wife reads this, I'd like her to know I'm still going to get her back for that lavatory thing.

10 comments:

  1. I'll be ready! In the unlikely event of you heading to the kitchen to bake a cake - I'll pass, thanks.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'll be ready! In the unlikely event of you heading to the kitchen to bake a cake - I'll pass, thanks.

    ReplyDelete
  3. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

    ReplyDelete
  4. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

    ReplyDelete
  5. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

    ReplyDelete
  6. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

    ReplyDelete
  7. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

    ReplyDelete
  8. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

    ReplyDelete
  9. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

    ReplyDelete
  10. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

    ReplyDelete