Another month, another #blogbattle prompt, this one being Merchant
Myths bubble up regularly. One such is the existence of the inaptly named ‘mermaid’. Inapt, not because she doesn’t exist but because the sexing of merpeople is extraordinarily difficult. Terming one such a mermaid suggests the equivalent existence of merboys. There would be mermums, merdads and merfams. In these days of fluidity around gender, the incidents of gaymer, bimer and the mercurious would be increasing. But to the merpeople themselves they are just mer.
In one way, however, the myths do have more than a grain of truth. Merchanting begins almost as soon as a new mer is born – naturally parthenogenesis is how that happens, though there is no denying mer have been known to tumble and fumble around the time that this occurs. Scientists, boring fogeys that they are, suggest this has more to do with the gyroscopic nature of the intergrational fertilisation of gamete and sperm than a pheromone-induced friskiness between two mers. But mer do have hands for a reason and it’s not to count spoons.
The merchant starts, like with most young as a way of attracting the birthmer’s attention. The birthmer allows its young to attach to its mammary glands via a rotational teat, thus allowing the birthmer to continue its swimming while all the time the mersprog is upright. In mythology the mermaid is often given human characteristics with breasts prominent. Properly so called these are nearer the bovine udder and the late Professor C. Creatures coined the term brudders as somewhat more homely than the previous suggestion of uboobs that was he felt to be too close to the unsavoury ubend and uboat.
As the mersprog develops, so too does its merchant. Each mer has a distinctive polyphonistic syncopation to its chant; when the unique new chant comes together and melds with the chants of the mer that share its gene pool, the combined sound has been described.
In one other way, the mythologising of the mer does contain an element of truth. Sailors, on hearing merchants are so befuddled by the autosuggestions included within the rupturing scales that many have been known to fall prey to their blandishments.
In Greek mythology these were exemplified by Odysseus being seduced by the Sirens and having to tie himself to his ship’s mast to prevent some terrible disaster.
Today, if you find yourself the subject of a merchant, with its specials and discounts, you are as likely to end up with a 25 piece dinner service in organza and taupe, a comprehensive collection of allen keys, a lifetime subscription to What Bollocks! Magazine and incipient bankruptcy as being driven onto the rocks. But in both cases humiliation and despair follow.
Naturally, all merchants should be viewed with suspicion and the mers’ habitats where these merchants are most prominent – shops, stores, supermarkets – given a wide berth.
TanGental 
Cleverly done. I do like the Sirens’ Mer chant
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It’s apparently our entry for the next Euroyawn extravaganza in Liverpool
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Avoid ‘What Bollocks!’ like the plague. It’s not very good.
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Thanks Mick. I wanted to replace Scouting For Buoys with something that didn’t focus on hunting inflatables but I’ll strike this from the list.
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Sir, I applaud your recent merarticle which I happened upon whilst browsing through the council mercycling bin. However, I question your use of the term merboy! Surely the term should be merbachelor, or mermanservant!
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Sir
With reference your missive of the 6th Inst, we must point out our titlage is carefully selected and this case we wanted to emphasise the essential unsinkability of the male mer, only the u on our corona has left having taken umbrage at our suggestion that all words beginning with ‘u’ are somehow unsavoury, and thus we misled you. It should of course have been merbuoy.
Yours, etc
PS if you’re wondering how we have managed to type ‘u’ in this reply (and if you are, we must question the shallowness of your existence). We persuaded the ‘n’ to take a break in Australia.
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I submit! However, I used to crave Corona raspberryaid, but being a poor waif and stray had to make do with gruel!
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Ah gruel! It’s a wonder no one has introduced instant gruel.
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It’s only a matter of thyme!
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The wonders of a mad writers mind Geoff. Very good take although having read your line about heaving chests in mythological lore my first thought was, in the absence of internet, dubious web sites and Only Fans, said scriptors of myth and Legend were doing the best they could to sate their own dodgy minds. Blokes clearly use up all the toga material leaving the opposite sex with a few bits of cloth to cover their bits as best they could.
Not that I’m accusing myth writers of being sexist….but…..
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Of course not and these days the titles would no doubt need updating. Myths as well as Mythters and Mythissus would cause issues over the inherent sexism involved in defining fables and legends by their married status. Glad it resonated; i wonder if Wikipedia would accept this as an entry?
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Try putting it up and see if anyone decides its unworthy of their stereotypic view points. On trend with your POV, you missed mythresses. Makes you think though, where would such long lived legends be with politically correct mandates!
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Indeed so and thank you for filling in my gap! Given the range of dubious governments we seem to bring on ourselves these days, it does make one think ‘politically correct’ might well be an early front runner for Oxymoron of the Year.
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I do believe our politicos could hold a monthly award regarding Oxymoron of the Month… but preferably without the first three letters. Way back I did do two parodies entitled Brexit Warrior and Collective Responsibility before getting overwhelmed by the incoming material I couldn’t keep up and moved on!
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That does sound like a bit of an open Box by Pandora
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Ahh yes, the Box of Pandoramyth.. although that now sounds like something out of Dr Who 🤔
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I enjoyed your merthology!
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It’s a study close to my bedroom
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I wonder if Odysseus is Mike Pence reincarnated!? He didn’t want any women in his office without “mother” – his wife – or someone else present. 🤔
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I suppose it might be embarrassing if there wasn’t someone on hand to change him when required.
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It’s quite embarrassing.😳🤓
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I think I want a subscription to What Bollocks! Magazine. Good post, Geoff.
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Thanks John. I think there are already a few titles that would seek to claim that place on the shelves.
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I was overcome with merth on reading this fine piece.
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Merthy beaucoups!
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Of course in San Francisco’s , the Chanting Mers are led by Sister Rapturous, the Merchant Mistress of Mirth. Total mind-blowing analysis.
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Good on SF to have its own mer chapter.
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This has to be amongst the classics in taking a word and twisting it into something hilarious, allowing a wonderful flow of puns and satirical observations.
I am drawn out from my dour, jaundiced, social-commentary corner and kneel in humility daring only to whisper:
‘Thanks for the chuckles, Oh Mirthful One,’
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I’m touched that you found some fun from frivolity.
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Certainly did. Right from the moment the meaning of merchant was explained.
Wonderfully astute.
Keep on keeping on
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This twisted twisting of merchant is absolutely loaded with double entendres! In a way, you got two for the price of one with this word. The paragraph at the end probably rang the most true – when some people get into shops, stores, and supermarkets, they do seem to fall under some kind of spell (marketing). Beware!
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It’s modern witchcraft!!
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