Mission impossible

Reporter David Farrier is using a large chunk of his own money to go to Mongolia in search of a deadly worm that may not even exist. Photo / Supplied

Reporter David Farrier is using a large chunk of his own money to go to Mongolia in search of a deadly worm that may not even exist.

If it touches you, you're dead. If it spits on you, you're dead. If it's just there next to you enjoying a cup of tea and a liedown, you're still dead. If you need any more convincing that messing with it is less than recommended, it's called the Mongolia death worm. Nasty.

According to legend, it's up to 1.5m long, lives underground, is attracted to yellow, and can defend itself by spitting acid, possibly derived from a poisonous plant that grows in the areas where witnesses claim to have seen it. It's also said to be able to kill anything that touches it via an electric shock, and may even be able to project that shock over short distances.

But there's no need to hide under the bed, it more than likely doesn't exist and, even if it does, it's all the way over in Mongolia's Gobi Desert. And that's miles away.

Just don't go repeating any of that to TV3's intrepid chap, David Farrier. He might disappear when standing side on and possibly struggles with a jar of pickled onions, but come August 4 he's bravely going where a few other people have already been and seeing for himself whether the death worm exists. It doesn't matter that no-one has found diddly since the first search was made in 1927, Farrier fancies his chances. Enough to sink somewhere in the region of $20,000 into getting himself, camera person Christie Douglas and an interpreter about four hours drive from Ulaanbaatar to his base camp in the deserty district of Noyon.

Now, if his mum's reading this and it's the first she's heard; it's all Rhys Darby's fault. Farrier has had an unhealthy interest in death worms for a few years, but its expression was restricted to wide-eyed rants after a fews beers until a quiet encounter with the expat comic. Wouldn't you know it, he's a closet cryptozoologist as well, even if his taste in camera-shy creatures leans more toward the North American big footed variety. All the same, Farrier was motivated: "If there was a trigger, he was it, that's when I thought that I had to do something. I've got a bit of leave owing, and well, as far as the money goes, there are probably more sensible things to spend it on. But I'm going after the Mongolian death worm, what better use could I put my money towards?" I think that's a rhetorical question.

In terms of the odds of success, Farrier says they're no lower than those enjoyed by his predecessors. Which is entirely true, as their common fruitlessness would suggest they've all been around zero, give or take. So, why the positivity? "Well, there's the sheer amount of testimony. A lot of people claim to have seen something and they generally agree on the details; the length, colour, wormlike appearance, that it projects liquid and is quite dangerous. Now there is a whole community built around the search for Big Foot, but with these people, they have no reason to make anything up, and they appear genuinely cautious about looking for it. That's enough for me."

So, when he's not filming his tell-all documentary, collecting personal testimonies, and offering to take photo portraits of passing Mongol nomads, he'll be letting off small explosions in the hope of bringing nearby death worms to the surface. What happens then is anyone's guess, but he's got himself a sturdy set of goggles to appease any OSH requirements. If nothing else they should set off rather nicely the traditional Mongolian garb he aims to purchase.

www.deathworm2009.com