Cafe Iguana (Tobago)

T Rex (Jurassic Park)

I was more than a little disappointed when I heard the news that Virgin were to stop flying tourists – or as I called them ‘lunch’ – to our dino island out in the Caribbean. So disappointed in fact, that I decided to take matters into my own (little) hands.

If Mohammed wasn’t prepared to fly food to my mountain (whoever Mohammed is), then this lizard was going to have to go hunting by sea.

Now you may think you know a thing or two about the T Rex. You might be aware that I’ve got a tiny brain and the sort of disproportionate hands that will one day evolve into a creature called the Jeremiah Beadle.

Well, here’s something you won’t know clever clogs (and won’t be able to check for accuracy on Wikipedia): Thanks to a pair of magnificent legs, T Rex was and is the world’s greatest long-distance swimmer. I can swim for England! (wherever and whatever England is).

To illustrate my point, let me tell you what happened the morning after I read about Virgin’s decision.

After breakfasting on triceratops and chips, I stomped on down to my local beach and prepared to swim for it. We’d been warned that leaving the island was futile, but I wasn’t having that. 

I was proved right too. A little over two hours in the water, pumping my pins furiously and keeping my head above water, I arrived in a place I later learned is called Tobago.

All triumphant-like, I quickly realised I’d lucked in. The place was teeming with fat, white tourists, a rich picking ground for a lizard with a craving. I still had a full belly from the herbivore breakfast, so I decided on a beer before going on the rampage, kinda taking my lead from England fans on tour (whatever England fans on tour means).

I took a heavy-footed, yet leisurely stroll across terror firma (geddit?), from the beach towards the nearest bar. It was called Café Iguana – and that put the spook up me.

See, as well as being a great swimmer and possessing a voracious appetite for flabby white flesh, I also have a few ancestory issues. You know the score: not really knowing where you come from, roots in shallow ground, identity problems – all that palaver.

Legend had it that the doc (God) had stitched bits of an animal called an Iguana into the broken T Rex double helix. I didn't buy it because I’m secretly an atheist.

But to see one of these legendary creatures in the flesh, or rather in-sign on the wall of the first bar I came to, was a bit of a head f**k. Almost too much for my walnut-sized brain to cope with.

The entrance was covered in foliage; that worried me too.

I kept thinking there might be plant eaters inside ready to mug me. Then I remembered that I was the only dino on this island (small brain = bad memory innit!)

So I just crashed through the entrance and pulled up a chair by the bar as best I could. Curse these hands; they’re the perfect size for a bottle of lager and playing practical jokes on other dinos, but I tell ya, they’re hopeless for shifting furniture.

Sitting by the bar I soon forgot my troubles because there I spied the most heavenly creature. Now, I told you about my legs. Well, I couldn’t hold a torch to the bird behind the bar (whatever that expression means). I was transfixed.

I wanted to eat her up; she looked such a tasty piece of meat teetering atop those firm pins. To begin with, I was in ‘behave yourself’ mode. I just sat there staring at her, roaring a bit, the beer goggles improving her statuesque frame with every sup. After a few though, I suppose I was getting a bit lairy, roaring every time she turned her back, whistling and engaging in some pretty violent foot-stomping.

The bloke on the stall next to me got irritated. Like the picture of the Iguana, he too troubled me; he was tiny, similar in shape to a very small pterodactyl, but black and with furry wings.

I noticed him shaking his beak, twittering and glaring at me between rounds; in the end I got so fed up I asked him what the bloody problem was. He slammed down his bottle and turned to face me.

“You’re my problem son,” he started, “you’re a dinosaur mate; a frigging disgrace. I’ve been watching you staring at that barmaid making lewd noises all evening and it’s sickening. I thought blokes like you were extinct; you should be ashamed of yourself.”

Shocked by the attack, I made some noise about political correctness gone mad (whatever political correctness …etc etc) but his words hit me like a catastrophic meteor strike. I mean here I was being bollocked by evolution incarnate, in a bar that asked me questions about creation itself. Blimey!

I dunno. What a mindfizz; my silly hands, a bar with two birds - one with fantastic legs, the other with wings and an attitude problem - and lots of flabby white people on the piss on a Caribbean island.

That Charles Darwin, he has a lot to answer for …. whoever Charles Darwin (oh for f*** sake).

T Rex's rating for Café Iguana – 200 billion years / 10

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• Natural Selection,..

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