So a Televison documentary tells us animals are clever? Try emailing one and see if it manages to send a reply
They're either cute, magnificent or delicious ... but none of them are even as smart as your dishwasher
WE saw recently a television documentary about a gorilla that has mastered sign language and uses it to communicate with people.
And this, of course, prompted many to suggest that there’s no point searching the heavens for signs of intelligent life when there’s so much of it on earth in animals and fish.
We were then told about a pig that can do jigsaws and how dolphins play catch with sea turtles.
And that’s before we get to the orangutan that has even learned to lie.
There’s an agenda to all this.
We must stop eating bacon sandwiches immediately and put away the fly spray because, who knows, the blue bottle that’s been head-butting your kitchen window for the past hour might be on the verge of discovering a cure for cancer.
Except, of course, it isn’t.
In my book, all animals fall into one of three categories. They are either cute, magnificent or delicious
Yes, a salmon can remember where it was born but that doesn’t mean it can do poetry or philosophy.
A pigeon is better at finding its way home than the sat nav you get in a £200,000 McLaren but that doesn’t mean it could write a book, or even come up with a plot.
They say that certain apes are clever but the fact is that none of them are even as intelligent as your dishwasher.
Certainly, they aren’t as clever as mine. She’s called Irene and she has a degree.
In my book, all animals fall into one of three categories.
They are either cute, magnificent or delicious.
A puppy is cute. So’s a hedgehog. And so is a vole.
A lion is magnificent and so is a crocodile.
Pigs, cows and sheep are delicious.
Related Stories
The trouble starts when we start to think of them as being clever, or like us in some way.
Because then we lose our ability to think straight.
And end up wiping out our cattle stock because we don’t want to cull the badger.
Because we saw one on a nature documentary and learned how it’s better at mining than the National Coal Board ever was.
Or we end up breaking into laboratories where scientists are trying to cure Ebola and freeing the monkeys, even though they are happy to spend all day picking fleas out of one another’s bottoms and eating them.
Or we get our knickers in a twist because sharpshooters killed a gorilla that was about to maul a toddler.
The message, then, is clear.
The next time you’re told an animal is clever, send it an email and see if you get a reply.
Curbs on Red Arrows raises soar point
THE RAF has announced that the Red Arrows, above, will not be performing a full whizzing- about display at the Farnborough International Air Show next month because of: “The large number of buildings, businesses and major transport links sitting beneath the planned flight display area.”
I’m sorry. What?
Farnborough hasn’t moved since last year, has it? Or expanded dramatically? So why was it all right to perform then, but not now?
The real reason, of course, is that after the terrible air show accident last year, in which 11 people were killed, skyrocketing insurance premiums mean the Red Arrows simply can’t afford to do their thing any more.
This is one thing that perhaps we can do when we are out of the EU.
Get to grips with the business of risk assessment.
Because if we don’t, the time will come when children won’t be allowed to use swings and you’ll have to wear a high- visibility vest before you can go to the lavatory.
Brexit is a leap in the dark
I MADE no secret in the run-up to what will become known as Independence Day that I wanted to stay in the EU.
That’s not because I’m a fan of bungling, expensive, unnecessary tiers of government.
It’s because we’d be setting off into the unknown.
We don’t know what will happen to the Pound, to the City, to business and therefore to the economy of Britain.
It’s completely impossible to predict.
Which is why I’m not going to join the chorus of people who’ve been on the news for the past 48 hours trying to make predictions about what will happen next.
They don’t know.
And neither do I. We will just have to wait and see.
Trusty Alpha got me to the poll
SO I was filming in Wales on voting day and James May was being even slower than usual.
Which meant there was a very real possibility that I wouldn’t be able to get to the polling station before it closed.
Eventually, I could take no more of his dithering and set off with my head full of mental arithmetic and average speeds.
I was using the new 500-horsepower Alfa Romeo Giulia Quadrifoglio, right, so I’d have the oomph to do overtaking.
But it only had a 58-litre fuel tank.
So if I drove fast, I’d have to make a pit stop.
It was all very nerve- shredding but I thought I could just about make it before the 10pm deadline.
Unfortunately, the nation’s highway traffic officer wombles had other ideas.
I’d heard before I set off that a lorry had crashed on the M40.
But this had happened at 12.30 in the afternoon. So by eight at night, obviously, they’d have it cleared and the road would be open again.
Oh no it wasn’t.
I could understand it if the lorry had been carrying toxic waste or leaky nuclear warheads.
But it was full of nothing more hazardous than frozen cow parts.
I could also sympathise – just – if the driver had died. But reports said he’d gone to hospital with nothing more than a “suspected” ankle injury.
Which means they took ten hours to put a lorry back on its wheels and sweep up the mess. Ten hours.
It’s pathetic and I hope that whoever becomes Prime Minister puts everyone responsible in jail.
Happily, despite their best efforts to keep me out of the polling station, I used the M4 and made it with minutes to spare.
That new Alfa. God, it’s fast.
Button it, Lewis
AFTER last weekend’s single-file procession of Formula One cars through a city no one’s heard of, Lewis Hamilton said his race had been ruined because new rules meant his pit crew couldn’t tell him over the radio how to fix his car.
There are a number of buttons and switches on the steering wheel which engage all sorts of engine settings, and he argued that he didn’t know which ones to press and hold and which needed turning off then on again.
Hmmm. I’m not sure this argument washes, really.
Because Lewis, above, is paid a great deal of money to operate that car and maybe, just maybe, if he spent a bit more time with the instruction booklet and a bit less time on Instagram with his dog and his jet ski, he’d have been able to cope.
Alligator tragedy is a no-brainer
AFTER that alligator swam off with a toddler from a waterfront holiday resort in Florida last week, the authorities announced there would be an immediate investigation.
I wonder how it’s going, and if they’ve managed to conclude yet that Florida is full of alligators, which live in water, and eat meat.
Tennis crowds should make a racquet
PART of what makes football so fantastic is the atmosphere.
The chanting, the abuse, the thwack of knuckle on face and the flares.
Football without that rampaging mob soundtrack would be as dull as ditch water.
Which brings me on to Wimbledon.
Tennis is a game that’s played in complete silence.
Woe betide anyone in the crowd whose mobile phone goes off, or anyone who chooses the wrong moment to shout out: “Come on, Tim.”
And it makes me wonder. It’s what we expect, but wouldn’t it be better if we could chant and taunt the players when they fall over or lose a service game? It’s worth a try, surely.
So, ladies of middle England.
When someone is two sets up and ends up losing, raise the roof with a chorus of: “TWO LOVE AND YOU COCKED IT UP, TWO LOVE. . .”
Do you have a story for The Sun Online news team? Email us at [email protected] or call 0207 782 4368