Mr. Mackerel has a triangular head and hooks for arms. Mr. Mackerel is a bit of an odd fellow. He does not use his hooks for fishing, but not because a fish is named after him and he feels bad for them. No. He uses them to scratch his head. Sometimes wisdom falls out. Sometimes nonsense falls out. Sometimes wisdom disguised as nonsense falls out, and vice versa.

Mr. Mackerel once had satisfying employment as shoe polisher for Sinister Big Bird. In those times Sinister Big Bird was well-known in parts of Europe as a great visionary and orator. Unfortunately the Big Bird got locked up in a refrigerated truck in Mexico. In the truck he met three men playing poker. They were accused of measuring the sizes of donkeys. They smiled a lot. Sinister Big Bird decided to visit them every day in jail, all through their imprisonment and ultimately their execution. He never returned to Europe.

Mr. Mackerel didn’t care much about anything but polishing shoes. With a background in molecular biology and moderate skill in gardening, origami, swimming and acrobatics, he seems like a well-rounded creature on paper. However, none of these things excite Mr. Mackerel. They interest him, but they do not awaken him. He only really likes shoe polishing.

“Who wants their shoes polished?” Mr. Mackerel used to ask when he was no longer a disciple of Sinister Big Bird. He had to go out into the streets and offer his services. “People, you need shiny and clean shoes! Twenty pence!” Business was bad. Occasionally he would shine the shoes of statues.

Mr. Mackerel realised how much he had depended on Sinister Big Bird, and how the world just never lived up to the Big Bird Experience, the community that had formed around this eerie bird. Mr. Mackerel went slightly mad, or simply stopped caring. The city was harsh on him. He no longer filtered anything he thought of before putting it into words. He was often seen strolling wide-eyed through town.

I met Mr. Mackerel on a bus. His curly legs dangled down the seat and I asked him where he was going. He giggled and shrieked: “pony riding!” I felt immediately attracted to this little creature. We turned out to have a few things in common, most importantly our mindset. I went pony riding with Mr. Mackerel that day. We are friends now. He’s polishing my boots this very moment, while I am making this blog for him. I think he will like it. He has a lot to say sometimes.

May you see the Mr. Mackerel I get to see every day.