Stonehenge is a mysterious deal, isn't it? All those big ol' rocks arranged like that. Nobody really knows what it is. There are many theories, ranging from Merlin The Magician to Doug and Dave. Stonehenge is a megalithic (Not sure what that means, so look it up yourself if you don't mind. You think I have all day?) monument that sits about eighty-five miles away from London, on the Salisbury Plain, most commonly known as the place where the Salisbury Steak was created.

Is it a calendar? A timer of some sort? A sun dial perhaps? Something like a watch. A primitive Rolex type of watch, for a race of giants! Tells the hour, the day, month, next equinox, next lunar eclipse, when Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition comes out, etc. I'm going with that one. That is my theory, based on extensive research consuming at least ten minutes, and a frosty beer.

So to set the scene, a male giant is standing over the freshly completed Stonehenge:

"Say, Big Boy, got the time?" inquires an attractive female giant.
"Yeah, Sugar. It's just about 4PM. Join me for tea? Or should we move to cocktails straight away?" he says with a sly grin.
The female giant glances down at the timepiece and raises an eyebrow, as she is seriously impressed. The Male giant notices this and he likes that she is under the impression he is a male giant of means.
"Nice time piece you've got there" she says with a wink, "Cocktails sound good. What do you say?"
"Sounds like a beautiful thing. I hope you like wine. I just trampled a whole vineyard yesterday."
"I was wondering about those purple feet."
They begin flirting shamelessly and making big eyes at one another.
"That is some gigantic booty you've got there," says the male giant.
"Why yes, I guess it is," she says giggling.
"He he. That’s because we're both giants," laughs the male giant,
"Everything about us is gigantic!"
"That’s right," the female giant says with a sultry smile as she gives the male giant the once over. "Be careful there! Don't trip over your fancy time piece."

And off they lumber to party down and shake some big ol' booty until the wee hours of the morning. The next day, the male giant can't remember where he left his timepiece, and there it sits to this day. That’s all I've got on Stonehenge. Just a theory.

Michael McGan - 8th June 2003