I hate nature. I hate getting a little bit of sand in my shoe. I hate scrubbing potatoes. I hate it when it rains on my fringe. I hate getting saltwater up my nose. I hate hiking. I hate trekking. I hate tramping. I hate camping.
I hate people who go on ‘walks’ because what’s the point when you just end up where you started? I hate people who love David Attenborough because I’m pretty sure all those animals are just elaborate, remote-controlled puppets. I hate people who enjoy “the scenery” because it’s just rocks and water and if I wanted to look at that I could just put my pump bottle on top of some gravel. Eff you nature! Stick it up your damp,
smelly bottom!
I don’t just hate nature. I think I’m actually offended by nature. Every time I look out the window, I end up being irrationally offended by gender inequality. Why is it that male animals look so better than female animals? Look, I realise this is no female genital mutilation. I know that the gender animal beauty gap pales in comparison to the gender pay gap. I can’t even tell whether this column is as satirical as intended because when I think about those poor brown lady peacocks I genuinely do feel a little bit upset. It’s not really fair, is it? It’s not like the brown lady peacocks can head down to the tail feather shop in the way I go to Amcal for a pair of false eyelashes. They wouldn’t even be able to open the adhesive with their talons. And why do boy lions get manes? Why do boy ducks get those shiny green feathers? Why do boy peacock spiders get little whirly legs and an iridescent funny flip up thing on their backs?
It’s even more upsetting when you ask Mr. Google. He has all sorts of depressingly Darwinian explanations about dude animals needing to impress their lady friends so they can bone them and about how the lady birds are brown so they can hide away in their nest with their babies and not get eaten by passing foxes. So far, so Revolutionary Road. So very Revolutionary Road that I worry that anti-feminist nutters might start using the poor brown lady peacocks as justification for the fact that women are paid considerably less than men are. Mother Nature, you cold-hearted bitch. You’re letting the side down!
I know. I’m anthropomorphising. I need to take a few deep breaths and remind myself that humans and animals have different kinds of brains. Lady peacocks might not even mind the whole brown thing. They probably don’t want a feminist revolution. It’s fine. I don’t even spend very much time outdoors anyway! Out of sight, out of mind! All I know is that the next time somebody asks me to feed the ducks with them I’ll need some kind of soothing mantra. I think it’ll be ‘Praying Mantis, Praying Mantis, Praying Mantis’.