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The Skunk Whisperer

When I first heard that there was a programme on Animal Planet called The Skunk Whisperer I, wrongly, assumed that this was a docudrama about the courtship between my bank manager and her husband.

You know the sort of thing … background music – Love is in the air – the happy threesome frolicking in the woods until the Labrador trips over his master’s long white cane causing him to shatter his dark glasses …

An honest mistake – could have happened to anyone.

Anyhow, the real Skunk Whisperer is a guy called Ned Bruha whom you call when wild-animals invade your home. The genius responding to frantic calls from frazzled homeowners by extracting furry intruders and creating defences against home-critters.

Mind you it takes a really sick kind of fuck to want to whisper sweet nothings into the ear of a skunk. Most people would prefer to communicate by satellite phone at least two states away from the one in which the skunk encounter had taken place and, even then, while dressed in one of those asbestos suits that the nuclear scientists wear.

Not genius.

The only protection he wears is a large hat to cover his lobotomy scar.

Watch this video of genius getting a skunk’s head out of a peanut butter jar.

When I first saw the clip, where the skunks head is still trapped in the jar, I thought that my initial take – about it being a show about my bank manager – was correct. Then genius manages to get the bottle off and I could see that the critter had darker hair on top and was missing the bangs and curls which give her do its shape.

An honest mistake – could have happened to anyone.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m one of the biggest animal lovers on the planet and I was thrilled to see genius remove the jar from the skunk’s head. It’s just that I am having difficulty understanding why the “experts” on Animal Planet and NatGeo believe it is necessary to play with venomous snakes, horrendous spiders and crocodiles who are dying to kill them.

Are we really that bloodthirsty that the possibility of these wenners (a moron on a quiz show is a “winner” on the Afrikaans version …) being seriously injured or, worse, draws us back to the TV every week?

What if the wenners just told us how dangerous their job is?

Probably not, we’ve all become adrenalin junkies.

Of course to get a real feel for the dangers to which these wenners are exposed you need to put yourself in harm’s way.

I would suggest the following:

Just before the programme starts, fill up your bath with warm water. Strip down to your Springbok rugby shorts and pop downstairs where, while your missus is finishing up whatever it is women do, you half-inch her cat – the one that’s been slashing your couch for eons.

Chances are that moggy hates you with all of its being but you need to be strong if you are going to experience the Ned Bruha effect.

Then sprint upstairs, and lock the bedroom doors and windows before flinging what should now be an insanely enraged animal into the bath.

By the time your missus hears your screams, races up the stairs, breaks down the bedroom door and rescues your torn and shredded body from the claws of that moggy you should be ready to watch The Skunk Whisperer with a whole new insight into the dangers involved in that programme or others like it.

Please don’t write in to thank me, it’s my pleasure.

If that isn’t dangerous enough for you, go for Rodeo Sex.

During sex with your wife scream out the name of her best friend or sister and try and hang on for as long as you can.

Nothing like watching these programmes in intensive care to enhance your appreciation of them.

Mind you, I should see you there straight after my bank manager reads this.