Have gone native and been living in the jungle for a few days.
Directions to find our particular patch of jungle were along the lines of … turn left at the stream –
cross the waterfall –
Then turn right at the fourth passionfruit tree –
and suddenly we’d arrived.
Our hut is just behind the palm tree, and was all made by hand from jungle materials by John, our host, a member of the Orang Asli tribe.
Seeing our potential as a pair of would-be assassins, he offered to teach us how to use a blow pipe with a poisoned dart.
These weapons have been used for hunting by his tribe for centuries, and his grandfather, father and uncle were employed by the British to kill Communists during the Malayan Insurgency. His uncle was so successful that he received military honours and a title.
The poison is deadly – made from the rubber tree – and the weapon is accurate and silent … the perfect tool for murder.
First John’s son showed us the technique –
and then it was our turn.
Anthony’s naval upbringing hampered his progress at first. Here he is scanning the horizon for the Spanish Armada –
But he soon got the hang of it –
although his technique did put me in mind of a boa constrictor swallowing a small mammal –
Whereas I looked more like a donkey eating an apple –
but I did manage to hit at least one bullseye on the target, so my technique must have had something going for it … possibly the flared nostrils taking in extra air.
Anthony was very keen to take a blowpipe home, but I had to point out to him that killing communists – or even Brexiteers – with a poisoned dart tends to be frowned on these days. And while the jungle offers ideal camouflage for wielding a six-foot bamboo stick, the average British High Street doesn’t, so his chances of slipping away unobserved afterwards would be negligible.
But if anyone else fancies pincushioning a few undesirable characters, I can source the pipe and the poisoned darts from my mate, John – just tip me the wink.