Now I’m sure you’ve seen them before – car-crash documentaries involving complete arses who fully believe they can commune with wild animals. Not the itty-bitty small wild animals no, the bloody great flesh eating variety or the ones that are so poisonous, that if they fart in a neighbour’s kitchen, you’ll die as well.
It is without doubt the most excruciating form of viewing I find. And I’ve lost count of the times that I’ve sat in my chair wincing and listened to these self-taught pillocks say, “Look how angry it’s getting,” hoping upon hope that the cocksure twat gets bitten right in the arse! Jesus! Of course its getting angry you prat, you’ve woken it up, you’re poking it with a stick, and in a minute you’re going to swing it round by its tail!!!
How many more times have we got to watch grown men striding about in khaki shorts, thinking they’re Doctor-bloody-Dolittle, and basically showing off their talents on camera? Oh they get away with their antics for years and years, writing books and even opening their own sanctuaries. But does it stop there – does it bollocks!
Then they get a little too ‘up’ themselves, and go on to boast about their understanding of these exotic killer beasts, while raking in a bunch of cash for their retirement fund. [Case in point: please see post ‘You’ll have to bear with me on this’. (2009/08/09)
There was once, and I can’t emphasise the word ‘once’ enough, who thought he comprehended the workings and ways of the American bear, he wrote about them, filmed them and eventually camped out in their surroundings. He did it for years and gained much notoriety and some fame for his efforts. The notoriety pumped up his already inflated ego and the fame made him believe he was God-sent to be at one with the bears. What happened? Yip, they ate him! So with this in mind, here’s another story of brazen stupidity, and believe me, you couldn’t make this up…
Born the son of a roughty-toughty mechanic, Ron wanted to be a ballet dancer, and right there is where it all started to go wrong for Ron. His dad was hoping that his son would take over the family business one day. But no, instead of warming to the look of a grease monkey, he picked up a vat of grease paint, and headed off to France. Once there, he joined the Follies Bergere, where he starred as a nude dancer – ewwwwwwwwwww gross!
When he hit 30 Ron knew that he had to hang up his tights, as lifting up twiglet-sized females all day can play havoc with your knees. It was a sad day, but you know what performers are like, they just can’t bloody stop doing it can they. Give ’em a crowd of no more than a couple pensioners and a goat and they’re off. All tits and teeth – it’s enough to make you puke.
After months of not knowing what to do with himself, he hooked up with a childhood sweetheart Joy, and between them they decided it would be a great idea to train up big some cats and perform with them, while avoiding a proper job altogether. This would prove to be his, well another friend, and Joys downfall anyway.
Well, they took the show on the road, with some success, but as time went on, they got more cats and needed another pair of hands. Enter a lithe and young Chuck. “Oooh, he was gorgeous,” said a very bi Ron, as bi as a fox with in a tu-tu in fact, but never the less they went on to become a famous threesome, in every sense of the meaning. In came the cash, up went their status, and they went onto open an animal sanctuary. Yes folks, we’ve reached ‘that’ part of the tale.
[Before I go any further, I thought I should explain this crucial fact. Having an in-bred or a cross-bred cat causes major problems in the long run, largely in the eating department. If a lion mates with a tiger, for example, you end up with a beautiful, but confused offspring. Half of it wants to go for a swim, and the other half doesn’t. The result – one pissed off person-eater.]
As with most shows, they needed to be updated to keep the audiences interest, and when the bookings dropped off, our chum Ron, in his buttock-hugging leather shorts said, “We just gotta get a white tiger.” Enter Jupiter.
Now, he was a gorgeous beast and no mistake, 600lbs of teeth and claws, but graceful with it. Chuck raised him and all was well initially. However, the fact of the matter is this, most white tigers are in-bred, and overall, this leaves you with a very large and unpredictable animal. Did Ronnie-baby know this fact? Well, yes he did. Did he care? I don’t think so. All he wanted was the stardom and the fame to continue, no matter what. Big mistake! Chuck tripped over some equipment that was left lying about one day, because they were having a new new cage built. This startled Jupiter, and he jumped all over his trainer, leaving him permanently short of breath. Shock-horror-gasp! Man-eating animal eats man!!!
At this point Joy stopped eating, became depressed and then suicidal, and in Ron’s own words, “She was praying to die, she didn’t know how she was going to die, she just wanted to.” Well poor old Ron, two rutting partners down – one ‘brown bread’ (slang: dead) and one who was suffering from acute melancholia, (the fear of cute melons).
In a bid to rally the spirits of his ailing partner, he woke her up one night and asked her if she’d like to go and see the ‘babies’. Eventually, she prised herself up from her mattress, went to the fridge, picked up a few meaty tit-bits and followed Ron towards the cat enclosure.
She handed a few piece of one dead animal to a larger living one and received a hug for her efforts, and then Burt the tiger was led back into its pen. Overjoyed with the outcome , soppy bollocks brought back Jupiter, with the hope of the same success. Well, you know what life’s like, it’s got that nasty habit of biting you right in the arse when you’re least expecting it. And unfortunately, Jupiter was a tad hungrier than everyone one thought, favouring a good sized chunk out of Joy’s neck, rather than a handful prime rump.
What did the surviving member of The Cat Dancers say to the huge in-bred beast, “What have you done to mom?” As he couldn’t speak yet, Jupiter began crying and sniveling, according to Ronald. No he wasn’t you prat, he was licking his lips and hoping for a plateful of dessert!
So, what have learned from this ridiculous circle-world farce? Never, under any circumstances, let a bi-sexual ballet dancer teach a classroom full of students about animal husbandry, never ever think that for one moment that you are a tigers parent, and if you do lose two dear shagging partners to one man-eating animal, at least you’ll get a nice big rug out of the deal if it all does go fun-bags upper most…
Right, I’m off to adopt a crocodile…cab…
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