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Nearly fell over laughing yesterday. Whilst flipping through the various TV channels, an advert came up flogging sandals, and one of them was advertised as "Vegan Sandals". Thought they were for wearing on your feet, and not for eating !!
 

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Nearly fell over laughing yesterday. Whilst flipping through the various TV channels, an advert came up flogging sandals, and one of them was advertised as "Vegan Sandals". Thought they were for wearing on your feet, and not for eating !!
Veganism rejects all things derived from animals, not just food. My vegan son-in-law will not wear clothes made from wool nor will he travel in my car because it has leather seats. He does drink beer, even though it may contain animal products.

No accounting for taste, as they say.
 

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How utterly silly. Sheep need to be shorn. Not using the wool is wateful. It is a natural product and therefore it is sensible to use it and wear items made from it.
Presumably vegans only wear clothes made of man-made fibres and plastic shoes. How nice and how environmentally friendly....
You guessed it, I've no time at all for veganism.
 

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Vegetarians/ Vegans are stupid, obviously going against nature and millions of years of human development. We are omnivorous.

Anyways, plants are living beings as much as all fauna are.
 

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Sheep may need shearing but he would argue that if mankind did not use wool (or eat mutton/lamb) then we would not breed sheep at all. As you say, he has to dress in cotton or man-made fibre. Not my choice but I didn't marry him.
 

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Thanks to you lot I now have two pairs of my knitted 'lady boots' (why should only the ladies have warm woolyfootwear?), one lonely flipflop and a tin of dubbin making a domestic protest in front of the fridge.
 

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MORE ON SANDALS

FLIP-FLOPS

It was a busy morning,
A callow youth was I,
Apprenticed in Blue Funnel Line,
A bright Australian sky.
As I was working on the ship,
Alas! Alack! I made a slip!

We lay in Sydney Harbour
At Central Wharf - the quay.
Attending to the life-boats
Were some other chaps and me.
A routine washing-out and cleaning,
With, so it proved, a greater meaning.

Our ship, a handsome liner,
Rose some fifty feet in height,
Up to the Boat-deck where we were,
The boats pristine and white.
We were alongside, starboard-side,
Where I was in a boat, inside.

My fellows had the hose-pipe.
The washing-out complete,
And I was standing in the boat
With flip-flops on my feet.
And chaps were passing-in to me,
The oars, preparing all for sea.

Imagine, then, the busy scene,
With dockers on the quay,
All queuing for the gangway,
Fifty-feet below. D’you see?
For them their day was getting started.
A hundred of them – all stout-hearted.

And then it happened! In the wet!
I took an oar and slipped and fell!
The oar slipped, too – I see it yet!
Where has it gone – Oh, effing Hell!!
“Below!” I roared with baited breath!
How many dockers done to death??

With fear and dread I gained my feet:
Flip-flopped! Foolish! What to see?
Relief! My heart had ceased to beat,
Until I saw upon the quay;
What joy, unto this day, I utter!
My oar was in a case of butter!


A pallet-load of butter-cases
Stood adjacent to the gangway.
I, with reddest of red faces,
Watched the oar go twing-way – twang-way.
The oar was perfect! I, the clown!
The oar a pendulum, upside-down!

Retrieving, then, the lethal oar,
Not guilty (just) of gross manslaughter,
I knew that I must learn much more
Of common-sense and ships and water.
The moral? Mark well. Double-check.
Wear only proper shoes on deck.

BY
29.10.09
 
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