Explosive stories

The Last Straw:  It has been overshadowed by the continuing coverage of the new Pope. But surely the most fascinating story out of Germany this week is that of the exploding toads in Hamburg.

Yes, while the headiest celebrations over Cardinal Ratzinger's election were in the south, the Lutheran north is suffering the worst of the hangover. Namely, the sight of more than 1,000 toads in a city park exploding for no apparent reason. The phrase "back to reality with a bang" would probably apply, except that eye-witnesses suggest the sound involved is more of a splat.

"It looks like a scene from a science-fiction movie," said Werner Schmolnik, the head of a local environment group, quoted by AFP news agency. "You see the toads crawling along the ground, swelling and getting bigger as they go until they are like little tennis balls, and then they suddenly explode."

The phenomenon has mystified animal experts. Many obvious explanations, such as that the toads had been struck by an unknown virus, or that it was April 1st, were considered and ruled out. A local environmentalist, Janne Kloepper, outlined a doomsday scenario: "If this keeps up, there will be no toads left in Hamburg." But by midweek there were reports of small green explosions in Denmark too - central Jutland, to be exact. Suddenly this was taking on the appearance of a biblical plague, specifically the one mentioned in the Book of Exodus, where God orders the pharaoh, via Moses, to free the chosen people: "And if thou refuse to let them go, I will smite all thy borders with frogs" (Exod 8:2). Meanwhile, back in Hamburg, the possibility that the toads were spontaneously combusting to relieve overpopulation was mooted.

This theory appeared to owe something to the Irish ballad St Patrick Was a Gentleman, which contains the line: "The toads went hop, the frogs went plop, slap dash into the water/And the beasts committed suicide to save themselves from slaughter." But probably the most plausible explanation is that offered by an amphibian pathologist, Frank Mutschmann (readers currently enjoying fried breakfasts should skip the rest of this paragraph). Basically, Mutschmann's theory is to do with crows, and their fondness for toad-liver. He suggests they try to eat the livers while the toads are still using them. This causes the victims to puff themselves up as a defence mechanism. Which would be a good idea if they weren't punctured.

The Germans have a word for every experience (with the possible exception of witnessing a toad explosion). Take Schadenfreude, for instance, which I experienced recently on learning that Dan Brown, the ridiculously successful author of The Da Vinci Code, is feeling the pressure of having to produce a sequel.

If you're one of the 2.4 squillion people who've bought The Da Vinci Code, you'll know it starts with a mysterious murder in the Louvre, where the body of a curator is found splayed in the position of a Da Vinci drawing. From there (readers currently enjoying the early chapters of the book should skip the rest of this paragraph) the action moves briskly throughout Europe, until the climactic discovery of the secret the Vatican has suppressed for two millenniums: that Jesus married Mary Magdalene and has living descendants.

So huge is this book that it has launched tourism booms in the fictional locations mentioned. It would be no surprise if the author is struggling to produce a sufficiently spectacular follow-up. Which is why, putting schadenfruede aside, I offer Dan Brown the following plot idea.

The action begins at a pond near Hamburg, where a handsome amphibian pathologist is investigating the mysterious deaths of hundreds of toads (their bodies splayed mysteriously, etc). Chapter 2 is set in Jutland, where a similar scene unfolds. We then cut to the Vatican, where a new, ultra-traditionalist Pope pores over a map of Europe, on which Lutheran countries are highlighted. Chapter 4 would be set in Dublin where the handsome pathologist, accompanied by the female love interest, studies a yellowing manuscript. Pathologist (tracing words with his finger): ". . . the toads went hop . . . the frogs went plop". Female Love Interest: "My God! You know what this means?" Pathologist: "Yes - that Tourism Ireland paid us a fortune to get mentioned!" Four hundred pages later, we would learn the shocking truth: God gave Moses 15 commandments, but under pressure from commercial interests, the Vatican has been suppressing five. If you're reading this, Dan, you can fill in the rest yourself. And don't thank me for the idea. A 10 per cent cut would do fine.