Living Life to the Extreme

Bear Grylls. He's really getting on my tits. Not that I actually watch his programmes on Channel 4, but he's one of those extreme survival-type twats. They all get on my tits. Why in God's name do they think that I should be interested if they go out into some God forsaken wilderness and survive for five weeks with a muddy puddle as their only source of water? Big deal. How macho. How utterly irrelevant to most people's lives. I really do get fed up with them banging on about how they survived alone (except for that camera crew, of course), in the desert for six months, (the fact that if they really got into trouble the TV company would send out a helicopter to rescue them didn't eliminate the risk, of course). If they just want the adrenaline rush, fine. Don't inflict your attempts to achieve it on me. But of course, they want the rush whilst eliminating any real risk. They want to survive to get back to their nice luxury home back in Surbiton, or wherever, to impress the neighbours with their daring escapades over cocktails.

I might be a bit more impressed if they lived their entire lives to the extreme. Perhaps they do. Maybe Mr Grylls has his toilet bowl filled with piranhas, so as to make taking a dump more exciting - he has to suspend himself from a rope over the bowl before he voids his bowels, so as to avoid any chance of the fish leaping up and mauling his nads. Flushing is another ordeal as the chain has poisonous snakes coiled around it... Just to make his discomfort complete, he wipes his arse with that really shiny and nasty toilet paper you used to find in public crappers. If that doesn't give him a rush, I don't know what would. Just to add to his high risk lifestyle, he could buy only foodstuffs which were close to their sell-by date, thereby making every meal a game of Russian roulette - will he go down with potentially fatal food poisoning, or will it just be a case of the trots and another desperate visit to that piranha-infested toilet?

Perhaps I'm being unfair to Bear Grylls and his ilk. Actually, no. I don't think I am. I don't think it unreasonable for me to get sick to death of seeing these extreme tossers deliberately placing themselves in risky situations - which they could easily have avoided - and then expecting me to be impressed by the fact that they're risking life and limb to do something very, very DANGEROUS! And stupid. It's like that bloody Steve Irwin, forever showing us dangerous snakes, for instance, telling us how they're only a threat if provoked, before poking them with a stick. Pillock! Sorry, I know he's dead, under tragic circumstances, but I still think he was a pillock. Don't ask me to be impressed by your daring escapes from the jaws of death, when you go looking for trouble, wrestling crocodiles and the like. Just use a bloody tranquiliser gun to subdue them, like everybody else. Better still, stay at home and leave the poor bastards alone!