Three legionnaires were walking through the desert under a baking sun. They were fully equipped with enough water for days, and food a plenty.
On the shimmering horizon mirages came and went. Visions of swimming pools, stalls full of ice-cream, sorbets, freshly-whipped smoothies of every conceivable flavour. But the legionnaires did not crack, they kept marching solidly on.
Suddenly one of them froze, “Psssst” said he. His companions halted, and strained their
eyes to where the first legionnaire was pointing. “Le voila”, said he, “Regardez, mes amis,
isn’t that a bacon tree on the horizon?”
They looked and they sniffed.
And sure enough; there it stood, proud and defiant in the middle of the desert, an oasis with a true bacon tree. Slowly they crept forward towards the mysterious object so far off. Inch by inch, centimetre by centimetre, until they were within a stones throw of the bacon tree.
Even nearer they crept, and suddenly, a shot rang out, dropping one of the legionnaires in
The other two returned fire, and gave first aid to their wounded companion.
As they bandaged him, and poured water over his face, they could hear his faint voice,
“That was no bacon tree,” he gasped, “That was a ham bush.”