Fuzzy wuzzy was a bear,
Fuzzy wuzzy had no hair.
Fuzzy wuzzy wasn't fuzzy.
Was he?

A tongue twister

My Encounter with Fuzzy Wuzzy

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear;
and it is said that Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair.
But did you ever stop to think why?

Back a few months ago, I was in the lush, green forests of Canada.
Romping around as I may romp,
when I came across a distillery.

Now, 99 bottles of beer on the wall may be enough for some,
But nothing beets some good old fashioned whiskey made by crazy hill-billies.
So after about 3 kegs worth of the good stuff, I was on my merry way,
when I came across a cave.

Now, when your drunk, your especially stupid.
It doesn't help if your stupid to begin with, either.
So when I took out my flash light, and shined it on the brown bear sleeping within,
I somehow mistook it for some kind hairy hobo, and in a burst of inspiration I decided I should shave him.

When your in the forest, drunk off your arse, don't carry a razor.
And if you do carry a razor, don't use it to shave the woodland creatures.
Now, like I said before, Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear.
But Fuzzy Wuzzy, after I played barber, was a very, very, angry bear.

He used his claws to slash out my eyes, which took a very long time to heal after extensive surgery.
Then he used his massive maw to grab hold of my body, swinging me to and fro,
throwing my body into the side of the wall, until I was on the brink of unconsciousness.

With the last remnants of my eyesight, I saw the bear rise up in front of me, with his package dangling dangerously close to my hand,
which still wielded the razor. So I did what any drunkard out shaving bears would do.
God forgive me and that helpless bear.

Anyhow, I crawled my way out of the cave and managed to make it back to the camp with the others,
That is, after the bear ran off making sounds like a little girl falling off a ravine.
I later told my friends my story, but my colleagues just laughed and called me the greatest tale spinner who ever spun gold.

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a great, manly bear;
Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair, though;
And I can tell you certain parts have far less hair then others.

A type of creature that star in the Commodore 64 games Creatures and Creatures 2. Formally known as Blotians (named after the planet they lived on known as Blot), Fuzzy Wuzzies renamed themselves in search of real hipness.

You received a free Fuzzy when you bought Creatures (it was one of those cheap fluff balls with a sticky bit on the bottom). Along with it, you got a 'Care For Your Fuzzy Wuzzy Guide'.

By purchasing and opening Creatures, you automatically adopted a Fuzzy. It thinks of you as Mummy, because, as far as it knows, you gave birth to it when you opened the packaging. You are free to name it what you like - but be warned, historical records have proven that Fuzzy Wuzzies named Mildred get quite annoyed.

Unfortunately, there is no way to clearly sex a Fuzzy Wuzzy. The best guideline is as follows: if it gives birth to a litter it's female, if it doesn't, it's male.

No food on earth has proven suitable for the Fuzzy Wuzzies' digestive tract. Go on, try something, anything. Place it next to a dish or something. It'll just sit there and stare at it until the dish is removed.

Fuzzy Wuzzies love being taken on very long walks in the countryside. However, they only enjoy this activity when being carried.

As Fuzzy Wuzzies will remain stationary for most of their natural lives, the grooming necessary is the occasional flick with a feather duster. This activity is also highly stimulating for Fuzzy Wuzzies.

Your Fuzzy Wuzzy can be taught many appealing tricks as it grows. Leaping through hoops is a speciality, this it may require some encouragement from behind.

Beware placing sausages (cooked, fresh or frozen) in front of your Fuzzy Wuzzy as it thinks sausages are natural enemies and will attempt to outstare it.

There's one rule you must follow above all others: Never, never ever, allow a Fuzzy Wuzzy to get wet. It can't swim.

And now you know...

The details are complicated. It seems that in late 1884, in what was then called the Sudan and seems now more or less to be in Eritrea, a British force was badly defeated by a local tribe called the Hadendowa Beja at a place called Abu Tulayh or Abu Klea. The British were on their way to relieve General George Gordon, besieged in Khartoum. They never got to Khartoum, of course. Gordon was decapitated and his garrison slaughtered. We don't know if this George Gordon was any relation to the other one; he was the General "Chinese" Gordon who had captured Beijing (then known in English as Peking, of course) in 1860.

This was one engagement in a local Muslim uprising led by Mohammed Ahmed ibn Abdalla, the Mahdi. We are informed that a "Mahdi" is a messianic leader of a jihad who rids the world of evil. This one was a slave trader resentful of the British ban on his profession. The uprising lingered on until 1898, a relief Mahdi having been called in at half-time. All of these events drift through the background of Thomas Pynchon's novel V.

Back to the Beja. They fought the British with spears, and did very well too. The British soldiers called them "Fuzzy-Wuzzies" because of their hair. Rudyard Kipling wrote a poem about it. Kipling had his moments, but some of his poetry is painfully clunky. This one, for example, is nothing to write home about.

Rudyard Kipling
(Soudan Expeditionary Force)

We've fought with many men acrost the seas,
An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not:
The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese;
But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot.
We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im:
'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses,
'E cut our sentries up at Suakin,
An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces.
So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;
You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;
We gives you your certificate, an' if you want it signed
We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined.

We took our chanst among the Khyber'ills,
The Boers knocked us silly at a mile,
The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills,
An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style:
But all we ever got from such as they
Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;
We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say,
But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller.
Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis and the kid;
Our orders was to break you, an' of course we went an' did.
We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't 'ardly fair;
But for all the odds agin' you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square.

'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own,
'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards,
So we must certify the skill 'e's shown
In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords:
When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush
With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear,
An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush
Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year.
So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends which are no more,
If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would 'elp you to deplore;
But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll call the bargain fair,
For if you 'ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square!

'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive
An', before we know, 'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead;
'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive,
An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead.
'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e' a lamb!
'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree,
'E's the on'y thing that doesn't give a damn
For a Regiment o' British Infantree!
So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;
You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;
An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air --
You big black boundin' beggar -- for you broke a British square!

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