Guest Blogger Danny Glover: Come Up A Pipe With Me

(With Mel Gibson hogging all the headlines these days, we thought it would be worth mentioning that his old mate, Danny Glover, once did a guest blog for Connell & Florence. Here it is.)

Come up a pipe with me. Come on. It doesn’t have to be a special pipe. A good old concrete cylinder will do. It doesn’t have to be high enough to comfortably walk in either. If we’re hunched over, well that’s just fine. This “too old for this shit” back of mine can take being hunched over for a little while. Besides, we can take a pillow and a picnic blanket up the pipe with us and if we get a little uncomfortable we can sit or lie down and enjoy some of the wonderful cheeses in my possession.

That is if you want cheese. You don’t have to like cheese to come up a pipe with Danny Glover. Oh no. I mean don’t get me wrong, I adore cheese and when we’re up the pipe we have selected I will be discussing cheeses at great length. I may even read aloud to you my 50,000 word critique on the finest French cheeses and their startling influences on 19^th century European culture but an inherent love of cheeses is not mandatory for coming up a pipe with Mister Danny Glover. An interest in cheeses would obviously be preferable. Not for my sake. Heck, I don’t care. Once I’m up a pipe and I start waxing lyrical about the great cheeses of our time, you could drop stone dead right in front of me and I wouldn’t notice. Not until I had stopped talking about cheese anyhow, which would be a long, long, long time after you would have died of old age anyway.

I guess what I’m saying is that once we’re up a pipe I just won’t shut up about cheese, so if you’re not that into cheese or find the idea of six days up a pipe discussing nothing except the splendour of finely crafted cheeses boring then you probably don’t want to come up a pipe with Danny Glover. I mean, I could hold off for twenty minutes or so and maybe let you ask me questions about the special effects employed in my vastly underrated Predator sequel or something but twenty minutes is an absolute max for cheese silence. By the end of those twenty minutes I’m going to be bursting to talk about cheese. If I were to try and hold it off any longer I would be foaming at the mouth. I’d be like a rabid dog. And who wants to be in a confined cylindrical space with a rabid dog? Only someone of questionable mental competence, surely?

In fact, you know what? Maybe it would be best if we just forget the whole idea. Things might work out that we end up inside a really narrow pipe and I don’t think I could stomach having my face stuck in the rear end of someone who found the glorious cheeses of this world such a tedious topic of conversation. So, let’s just part ways and let that be that.

What’s that? You’ve been described as having a psychotic obsession with the Camembert? Well, why didn’t you say so? Come on. Let’s swing by my cheese cellar, find a glorious pipe and take ourselves for a walk.

(Only eleven photographs of Danny Glover remain in the world. Here they are)