It was something of a shock to be asked to front a new show on the ethology of our larger cities. Attenborough is usually trotted out for anything involving animals. I’m more of a pond life specialist, though now I know more about the subject of this series of programmes, I am perhaps not surprised my expertise was deemed relevant. The great bonus is that we have finally identified the cause of the UK’s massive budget deficit and debt problems.
I have not come across a species of pond life as crassly gluttonous as the Acpos. Their diet is highly specialised, typically consisting of chocolate-dipped strawberries and champagne in the early morning, filet-au-point in early afternoon and pan fried sea bass with asparagus helped down with Puilly de Fume before they take their overnight naps, or retreat to assignations with females clearly not their mates in both hetero and homo sexual relations. In later episodes we follow them to an elephants’ graveyard equivalent, during which they drink gin in large quantities before trying to fly by throwing themselves at the ground. They die before the very rescue squads they organised arrive, having failed to dress themselves appropriately for the conditions.
Today, we find them deeply involved in their main environmental function, which is to create massive debt and budget blackholes in their country’s economy. At first sight, it seems their diet and uniform fetish alone would account for this, but as one absorbs their form of life one realises the acpos are the merely pinnacle of the hive. A much larger sub-species does all the work and in turn is a much bigger debt-former for the country as a whole. Later programmes will cover the government cull in which over 30,000 of the sub-species (which can be identified by inferior uniforms and smaller numbers of sexual encounters, usually with stranded Norwegian tourists) will be slaughtered to allow the country to recover from the excess consumption of their alphas.
However, now we press on as the Acpos congregate to hear the Orde Indoors deliver his annual address on the chocolate-dipped strawberry economy, before splitting into work groups with code names such as ‘Santa Claus Butt-Fucks Rudolph’, which as yet we do not fully understand, but involve a dark room, video player and a box of tissues. The Orde is totally incomprehensible, except to viewers in Northern Ireland.
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