So… 23 August. What shall we celebrate? The 11th anniversary of one of the finest exchanges in Twitter’s… distinguished history?
…119 years since the New York Times covered the story of Clever Hans, the horse who could do maths?
…but you can read about that on Wikipedia — and, if you wish, follow the links at the bottom of the page to Jim the Wonder Dog, who has his own memorial park in Missouri, or Nazi talking dogs (who, as far as I know, do not have a memorial park).
No. Today, you see, is the 26th anniversary of the opening of the Icelandic Phallological Museum, which was also the 56th birthday of its founder, Sigurður Hjartarson.
Yes, obviously, this cultural phenomenon is widely documented, but disembodied cocks are funnier and more interesting than educated equines, and it’s my account. So.
The genesis of the museum is well-known: Sigurður was having a beer in 1974 with his fellow teachers and they got talking, as one does, about pizzles — specifically, about bulls’ penises used as whips.
Unlike many pub conversations, this one bore fruit, evolved into a standing joke, and Sigurður became the owner of 63 “specimens”. By 2012, there was a documentary, The Final Member, about trying to acquire a human penis.
They got one in the end, from “pioneer in Icelandic tourism and famous womaniser” Pall Arason, who died, at 95, in 2011, 15 years after promising his (allegedly) well-used organ to the institution. Unfortunately…
Sigurður will apparently one day get another one from American Tom Mitchell, who calls his old chap ‘Elmo’ and has written a comic book about it. Sigurður’s son, however, now owner of the museum, says Mitchell is “attention-seeking”.
No. No. I’m sure he’s fine
Yes, Tom’s just helpful. That’s all. Hjartarson, by contrast,
describes himself as a dull, conventional person. “I’m a family man”, he said
Indeed, the whole enterprise is very much a family affair. His son, Hjörtur Gísli Sigurðsson is
…and his artist daughter Þorgerður Sigurðurdóttir celebrated Iceland’s 2008 Olympic handball silver medal by creating this in the team’s honour:
Those aren’t the penises of the team, and were not, in fact, made with reference to their lower portions. No:
I didn’t have any models. I just made them from experience.
Not that that’s the oddest thing I’ve found out during my vital research — because the University of Edinburgh has a webpage dedicated to Sigurður, as he once got a postgraduate degree in Latin American history from them.
Anyway, all that remains to be said is that when my sister visited Reykjavik, she sent me a photo of the museum’s camel gonad lampshades.
Which was nice.
