Penguin Phil was a penguin. Obviously. Also, his name was Phil. Likewise obvious. Penguin Phil lived in the South Pole, for, as I’ve mentioned, he was a penguin. Called Phil. As David Attenborough has time and time again showed, the South Pole was not an overly pleasant place to live; it was indeed overtly cold. So, times weren’t always easy for a penguin. Especially ones called Phil. For Phil, who was, as I’ve laboriously stressed to you, a penguin, had asthma; asthma is trait rather unbecoming of a penguin. Such as Phil. As penguins need to waddle and swim and fish and whatnot, indeed, one could say, that the life of a penguin was a rather active one – not to say on par with that of an Olympian, but compared to a sloth for instance, they were practically Michael Phelps. So, as you can see, asthma was hardly a benefit to a penguin like Penguin Phil. Although Phil wasn’t in as poor a state as he might’ve been if he was something other than a penguin, a puffin for example. Although it was a great annoyance to penguins, particularly Phil – because he had a drink problem – that they remained perpetually grounded on terra-firma, whereas puffins could fly and glide and swoop as they wished, Phil couldn’t deny that he was hardly a prime candidate for that excess movement. For he had asthma. And was a penguin. Called Phil.
Life is rarely easy for penguins, including and especially Phil – because he was after all a penguin. Called Phil – especially when one lives in the South Pole. The snow is all consuming, the cold is all engulfing and, to be honest, there’s not really a lot to do. For penguins, of which Phil was one, don’t have electricity – as they have no means of building or inventing, as they have no hands, merely flippers, as they are, you must remember, penguins. So Phil, a penguin, couldn’t idle away his hours watching TV or playing on Assassin’s Creed (which was a shame, as, despite being a famed asthmatic, Phil was a fan of free-running) so he had to otherwise occupy himself. Phil was quite content to whittle away his hours, sitting in front of his igloo – for the very best penguins, like Penguin Phil, do of course live in igloos – contemplating many a thing: why is Pi such a long number? What colour does a Smurf go when you choke it? And what is the meaning of life? Phil was a contemplative penguin.
Yet, one day (Penguin Phil didn’t recall which, because penguins aren’t overly good with dates. And Penguin Phil was a penguin. Called Phil) contemplating was no longer enough for Penguin Phil. That day, of which Penguin Phil didn’t recall the date (because he was a penguin. Called Phil) was the day that he decided he was going to get a job. And that’s where this story ends, but the story of Penguin Phil goes on
Penguin Phil will return in the Perplexing Profession of Penguin Phil!
WJ
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