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The Glory of Television!

Just occasionally, I watch television. It's a vice. I don't mean "I watch specific programmes on television", that's normal. Law & Order: SVU's got a boy who's been anally violated with a violin bow, or a weird sex-cult run by a conman, click on. Heroes is currently a bit hit and miss, but I enjoy it. I'll even watch CSI if I need filler. But I know what's on in advance; I don't need to channel surf. The joys of the Internet and PVRs and all that cool stuff is that we don't need to break our own little media cocoons.

I will admit that I enjoy watching some of the "Gordon Ramsay swears at people" type of show, simply because the people he's swearing at are even bigger cunts than he is. So imagine my joy when, too bored to change channel, I saw the title of the next show: Special Needs Pets.

Yeah. Fuck me, this is comedy gold. If you've got my kind of twisted mind. I can just tell Charlie Brooker is watching this with some sort of sadistic glee. Take this quote:

"When my husband died, it was very hard on both the parrots." This from a woman who has to give her parrot a prozac-analogue for depression. Said parrot doesn't want the drug so struggles to get free, then looks scared at the very prospect of freedom. Only after getting the drugs does he fly up to the ceiling and piss in the camera. With quite precise aim. A depressed parrot is still more accurate than most RAF bombers. Said parrot gets depressed at the thought of it's dead master. A bit of a bugger when the parrot can mimic the dead husband with near-perfect accuracy. The prozac starts to work, so they take him for CBT. Yes, cognitive behavioural therapy, for parrots.

Or the man with an incontinent cat. "First I have to empty his rectal passage and then I try to empty his bladder. It's like playing a pair of bagpipes, really." While the cat lets out the most plaintive, undignified, meow I've ever heard. The poor bugger was plainly trying to vocalise "get out of my excretory systems you utter bastard" in a way that humans can understand. So it really is like playing the bagpipes. On the other hand, I can see why he wants to do it. Bear in mind that unlike ponces across the pond, we don't de-claw cats. Anyone who volunteers to catheterise a cat is asking to lose at least two limbs.

Context is for the weak: "If we could travel back in time, I could conceivably do a large brachiosaur."

There's also a cockatoo with a psychotic attachment to his owner. To the point that he shrieks constantly and plucks until he draws blood. It'd be an emo cockatoo, all (blast, who do the children listen to these days? Switchblade Romance? Morgan Freeman? Whatever fits.) blasted loud and cuts himself. But this cockatoo has a glint. If it were American, I'd give it a week before it took a handgun to school and went on a spree-killing. This is a cockatoo that lives only until it can commit suicide by cop.

Some of these stories could actually be touching, but I'm laughing too much to care. The cream of the crop is the masturbating parrot. See, parrots live to a ripe old age and every single one of them is utterly barking mad. This one had the parrot-equivalent of satyriasis. It would wank constantly. It'd wank on the perches. It'd wank on the shower rail. It'd wank on the television. The whole thing was like a perverted version of Winston Churchill's famous speech. But it gets better. This parrot had not just masturbated on his owner's head, it had a fetish. It couldn't leave a vibrating rabbit alone.

Yes. This was a satyriatic parrot with a furry fetish and it's own specially provided vibrating plushie.

Fuck me, but television is wonderful.

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