With the excitement of the World Cup upon us, untold millions of viewers have discovered the soul-shattering tones of the noble vuvuzela. Beloved by soccer fans worldwide, the vuvuzela is lovingly crafted from tin, plastic, eye of newt, and topsoil from the graves of unrepentant war criminals. The vuvuzela’s rich and storied history will undoubtedly appall readers who desperately hoped that vuvuzelas were jerry-rigged instruments of torture that would never be able to hurt us again after the World Cup packs its bags and slinks off into the night.
The vuvuzela’s unique sound perfectly replicates the unbearably irritating mating call of the vuvuzela bird (aereopticus cacophonus), which thankfully has been hunted into extinction. The bird was more commonly known as the black widow pheasant, as once the female of the species was inexorably drawn to the male’s agonizingly torturous bleating, she would complete the biological act as quickly as possible before proceeding to peck her partner to death in an act of unholy retribution.
The vuvuzela emits its distinct calf-crammed-into-a-wood-chipper tones at 127 decibels. That’s ten decibels beyond the sonic threshold of pain and 50 decibels beyond the sonic threshold of inciting listeners to punch the vuvuzela player in the throat. Vuvuzelas have been used as experimental crowd control devices in major American cities, but SWAT teams who have deployed vuvuzelas have noted a marked lack of success, as the vuvuzela’s maddening shriek only serves to incite rioters into greater frenzies of mindless rage and violence.
The vuvuzela has caught on as an effective parenting tool in war-ravaged nations where life is cheap and the human spirit has been irrevocably beaten to a pulp. Parents of unruly children hire malevolent clowns to entertain their misbegotten offspring by merrily chasing the terrified tykes while trilling away on vuvuzelas. The physical and emotional trauma has proven frighteningly effective in bludgeoning the little nippers into abject submission. Hello vuvuzela, goodbye discipline issues.
Football hooliganism must bear the brunt of responsibility for the vuvuzela’s introduction to England. After the 1985 Luton riots, Parliament was on the verge of banning professional football when Sir Broxton McGillicuddy was struck by an inspiration that surely originated in the darkest depths of Hell. Sir Broxton suggested providing vuvuzelas to gangs of football hooligans to provide a less destructive means for them to vent their aggressions. The Vuvuzela Distribution Act was passed on August 16, 1985 and repealed on August 19, 1985. “I’ll take a broken bottle in me face any day,” testified Manchester United fan Clifton Moorhouse during the repeal hearings. “Please, for the love of all that’s good and holy, get rid of those damned horns.”
The vuvuzela is here to stay, much to the dismay of the good and the just, and the delight of Scandinavian death metal bands seeking the Unholy Grail of infernal cacophony. With their pervasive presence at the World Cup, vuvuzelas have accomplished what was once believed impossible. For the first time, the peoples of the world have joined together, united in their implacable hatred of the vuvuzela’s diabolical dissonance.
