This is how Redmond O’Hanlan starts his fantastic book Into the Heart of Borneo:
As a former academic and natural history book reviewer I was astonished to discover, on being threatened with a two-month exile to the primary jungles of Borneo, just how fast a man can read. Powerful as your scholarly instincts may be, there is no matching the strength of that irrational desire to find a means of keeping your head on your shoulders; of retaining your frontal appendage in its accustomed place; of barring 1700 different species of parasitic worm from your blood stream and Wagler’s pit viper from just about anywhere; of removing small, black, wild-boar ticks from your crutch with minimum discomfort (you do it with Sellotape); of declining to wear a globulating necklace of leeches all day long; of sidestepping amoebic and bacillary dysentery; yellow and blackwater and dengue fevers, malaria, cholera, typhoid, rabies, hepatitis, tuberculosis and the crocodile (thumbs in its eyes, if you have time, they say).
If you too are threatened with exile to primary jungles of Borneo, first of all, congratulations, you’re going to have a blast. Second of all, here are some videos of globulating leeches to really get you in the mood.
The first thing to be said about leeches is no matter where you are, they’ll find you. They’ve evolved a Liam-Neeson-in-Taken-like inner drive to hunt you down. If they’re on the ground, you’ll see them flipping jaw-over-jaw (the leech equivalent of arse-over-tit, since they’re double-ended) in your direction. If they’re on a leaf, then you have the honour of watching one of the most gruesomely fantastic acrobatic displays in the animal kingdom. A leech fully extended, stretching out like ET’s finger, just waiting for something to cling onto.
Your ankles are like warm apple pie to a leech. If it’s raining, they will make your boots look like the leftover dregs in an empty steak packet.
But be warned, although apple pie ankles are their favourite, any nook or crevice easy to hide in is considered holiday accommodation to a leech. The chalet underside of your watch, the heated mansions underneath your arms, the French chateau of your inner thighs. They’ve even been known to take all-inclusive getaways to the sleepy rural village that rests within your spectacles.
Fiery debates continue to be waged over the leech-blocking utility of being disgustingly hairy. Does it add an additional layer of impenetrability, or just provide fresh hiding places—a jungle within a jungle? I tend to agree with the former, but then again, I speak from the unfortunate bias of having a couple more chimpanzee genes than the average human.
Sometimes it even seems that they hunt in packs.
And they really are quite good at the blood sucking game.
But the solution, the golden rule, the secret, the resolution, the truth-bomb to dealing with leeches is, at its heart, very, very simple. Work on your flick.
And just remember, they’re painless. Really, actually, they’re quite fun. Much better to watch out for what Redmond calls that “Borneo diarrhoea that gives you two minutes crawling time between the onset of heavyweight boxing in the stomach and a punch through the anal sphincter”. Yup, been there.
And on that graphic note…here’s a short Q & A to end things off with.
Question: Gianluca, where’s the worst place you’ve been had by a leech?
Answer: I’d rather not say.
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