The Edgar

luvandhat:

LUV - How unlikely are penguins?

No, let me back up. How unlikely are birds, for a start? How contrary is the idea that birds - quick-eyed, tiny, twittering birds that dart through the air and fill the sky with song - were once the cyclopean earthbound titans that were dinosaurs?

This is a mandatory click through and read.
Once again, HAT dominates:

David Attenborough, usually so hushed and respectful, lets his guard drop. “Oh GOD” he cries, “Not this shower of cunts again”. Even the music changes to welcome the penguins. Until now, Frozen Planet’s score has managed to perfectly invoke the beauty and ferocity of mother nature, but at first sight of a penguin, it starts going “OOMpah OOMpah parp parp WHEE!” like the theme-tune to a terrible ITV sitcom from the 1970s about a hilarious racist.

“This again? Seriously, these bastards are DREADFUL,” Attenborough wails as he’s confronted with another ten-minute segment of penguins waddling around in circles and falling over and bumping into things and puking up into other penguins’ mouths and yelling “WERP! WERRRRRRP!” at all the other fucking penguins all the fucking time for no fucking reason at all.

“No, David, you don’t understand,” a simpering Frozen Planet producer tries to explain. “Penguins are funny. People like penguins. They’re like funny little waiters.” But Attenborough isn’t having it. “They’re NOT like funny little waiters, Jonathan,” he thunders. “They’re like little cunts. Little useless cunts. They can’t even FLY, for fuck’s sake. You know what I’d like to do to penguins?”

“No,” sighs Jonathan, pretending that he hasn’t already heard this a million times before.

“I’d like to kick them in the minge. Right in the fucking minge.”