Khaki Blues

Steve Irwin bites it. And good riddance!

Here's a man who spent his life running around after hapless beasts, provoking them into attacking him and then prancing around as if fending off animals with brains the size of walnuts is something to crow about.

"Lookit me! I'm sitting on the back of a trussed up croc while ten men hold it down! Ain't I the man!"

South Park 's caricature of him was biting and insightful. An empty headed, khaki shirt filling buffoon, running around shouting "I'm going to pin 'im down and jam my thumb up his arse!" in his trademark 'australian-for-beer' accent. Pray tell, how exactly does wrestling with a Dingo or putting the smack down on a Koala further the cause of either science or conservation? Will the fact that you clotheslined an alligator help protect the species or will giving a Kangaroo a pouch wedgie help spread environmental awareness? I don't see erstwhile Steve's audience of WWE watching mouth-breathers running out to embrace either trees or conservationism anytime soon.

Nature has the last laugh as usual though, as Steve is stabbed through the heart by Touche the Sting-ray; no doubt as he tried to wrestle it to the seabed and jam his thumb up its arse. Et tu Brute! and all that.

Now it's off to the happy hunting grounds for Steve, to spend the rest of eternity being chased by the spirits of the very animals he abused, as they for once, get to shove their thumbs, claws, pincers and what have you up his arse.

Crikey! Now that's what I would call some real entertainment!