Nobody would ever have asked Arnie "where are the bodies?" but apparently this is precisely the question that Spiked is directing at Sir Bob Geldof following his obviously 'Jimmy Hill' story on the Jonathan Ross show about how an Italian island shoreline is being visited almost daily by bloated African corpses.
While Holden Caulfield fretted over where the ducks went in winter, I often find myself pondering the improbable lack of inanimate flesh in daily life. (It's less of a problem in Guatemala where most major thoroughfares feature a couple of steaming stiffs every day.)
And it's not just a mankind issue - why aren't our forest floors not littered with John Doe squirrels? I know that Nature has a well-rehearsed tidy-up act, but it's almost too good to be true!
On the subject of Nature and its imponderables, exactly why are those little mice that scurry around beneath the tracks at Leicester Square Underground station precisely the right grimy brown colour of the ageing concrete below the platform?
The Darwinistic explanation is clear - random mutation followed by a selection pressure favouring mice that were better camouflaged. Hello, selection pressure? Does that mean that there are some hitherto undiscovered carniverous mouse-eaters lurking down on the Piccadilly Line?