| Lions and Tigers and Great Bears, Oh My! by Dominic Hilton Tuesday, November 27, 2007 Not to overplay it, but I think I may have found the key to eternal global peace and harmony. It’s 2am on a Saturday night and I feel like Carl Bernstein as I interview my friend Mike O’Brien in the cluttered living room of his fashionable North London home. O’Brien, who is rumoured to be living with my sister, is the blonde, multitalented bass player of the rock band Great Bear. He is also one of the most original thinkers of our time. Wired on chocolate cake, I am faking bathroom breaks just so I can scribble his brilliant ideas onto sheets of toilet paper. (Unfortunately, he is all out of toilet paper and I am forced to jot notes all over my thighs.) “Don’t sweat it,” Mike tells me after I return from my forty-fifth trip to the loo. “I am recording every word of our little tête-à-tête.” He points to his wall of hi-tech hi-fi gadgetry. Lots of red lights are flashing, which I take to indicate something or other. To understand O’Brien’s one big, groundbreaking idea, consider the opening scene of the blockbuster Hollywood movie epic he has already planned about his “growing movement.” “We open in space,” he begins, gesturing like a preacher. “The camera is pointed at Planet Earth. We track down, all the way down, through the atmosphere, to somewhere in Africa, where a lion is lying lazily in the jungle, admiring his own hair. Then we pan out to see me, standing nearby, alongside a tiger. I am staring directly at the lion and – this is the important bit – I am clapping, slowly.” |
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“So this,” he says, opening one of his binders and handing me a recent promotional
leaflet from London Zoo. “Exhibit A.” He shows me the section on jungle beasts. Sure
enough, two glossy pages are dominated by big lion pictures with lists of top lion facts.
Then, hardly noticeable, tucked into the corner, is a tiny image of a tiger. A lone
sentence accompanies the image, as if the zookeepers are ashamed of their tigers.
“What’s that about?” O’Brien shrieks, wildly flipping the pages. “And check this out: A
full double-page spread on the ‘Lion-Monkey’! You think he gets that kind of exposure
because he’s a monkey? No chance! It’s all because he’s a lion monkey. I’m telling you,
this lion glorification thing is way out of control.”
I request another drink.
“When do you ever see a tiger documentary on TV?” O’Brien continues, ignoring my
request. “Lion things are everywhere. You can’t get away from them. Disney is against
tigers. Tigers are always the bad guys in Disney movies. Then they go and make The
Lion King... It’s so obvious. At London Zoo, they named their big lion ‘Lucifer’. Their
biggest tiger is called ‘Sarah’.”
I find it hard to argue with his thesis.
“Lions have never done anything for me,” he responds when I ask him why he is so
passionate about his cause. “And besides, what looks most like a turd floating in a
swimming pool?”
I tell him I don’t know.
“A Lion bar,” he says, angrily.
I ask O’Brien why tigers don’t have their own chocolate bar.
“They don’t need one,” he says, waving his hand dismissively.
Once he’s settled down, I point out that his beloved tigers have often been known to
maul human beings to death.
Tellingly, O’Brien gets defensive. “All tiger attacks on humans are a protest against
humans’ pro-lion bias,” he says, as if reading an official legal disclaimer. He then
reminds me that a tiger recently mauled Roy from Siegfried and Roy. “Another plus.”
The conversation takes a depressing turn as he reminds me that “Tigers are going to
be extinct in twenty years.”
“So are lions,” I say.
He ponders this carefully, before offering his response: “F*** ’em.”
Mike’s movie will be like a cross between Super Size Me and Fast Food Nation, though
with a greater focus on lions and tigers (with “Eye of the Tiger” as the inevitable theme
tune). “After we’ve opened with me slow-clapping the lion,” he enthuses, “the rest of
the movie will involve me going around the world interviewing people who like lions and
telling them why they’re wrong.”
To what purpose?
“You’ll slowly sense the tide turning against lions,” he grins. “An organic, united lobby
movement will grow and eventually spread from London to Los Angeles to Lahore. This
is the one cause that will unite the world. We’ll organise a march on Washington, led by
me. My movement will end the so-called Clash of Civilisations as we know it. All cultures
and peoples will unite in understanding that lions are not all that.”
I point out that it may lead to civil war in Detroit.
“Ah, but the Tigers will always beat the Lions!” he beams, mixing up his sports.
I am taken with his argument, though I start to wonder if it adds up to anything more
than an anti-China manifesto when he suddenly says, “Tiger meat is still a delicacy in
China.”
I question him on this, but he is vague: “We all need to watch China as it’s getting
pretty big, pretty quietly, pretty quickly.”
Then, after some deeper probing, and another bottle of wine, I discover that O’Brien
was urinated on by a tiger when he was a boy. Also, his mum’s first boyfriend was
killed by a tiger.
“These events may have had an influence on me,” he admits, before slipping into a
peaceful reverie, and presenting me with the opportunity to escape.
© lizardmagazine.com, 2007
Also by Dominic Hilton:
leaflet from London Zoo. “Exhibit A.” He shows me the section on jungle beasts. Sure
enough, two glossy pages are dominated by big lion pictures with lists of top lion facts.
Then, hardly noticeable, tucked into the corner, is a tiny image of a tiger. A lone
sentence accompanies the image, as if the zookeepers are ashamed of their tigers.
“What’s that about?” O’Brien shrieks, wildly flipping the pages. “And check this out: A
full double-page spread on the ‘Lion-Monkey’! You think he gets that kind of exposure
because he’s a monkey? No chance! It’s all because he’s a lion monkey. I’m telling you,
this lion glorification thing is way out of control.”
I request another drink.
“When do you ever see a tiger documentary on TV?” O’Brien continues, ignoring my
request. “Lion things are everywhere. You can’t get away from them. Disney is against
tigers. Tigers are always the bad guys in Disney movies. Then they go and make The
Lion King... It’s so obvious. At London Zoo, they named their big lion ‘Lucifer’. Their
biggest tiger is called ‘Sarah’.”
I find it hard to argue with his thesis.
“Lions have never done anything for me,” he responds when I ask him why he is so
passionate about his cause. “And besides, what looks most like a turd floating in a
swimming pool?”
I tell him I don’t know.
“A Lion bar,” he says, angrily.
I ask O’Brien why tigers don’t have their own chocolate bar.
“They don’t need one,” he says, waving his hand dismissively.
Once he’s settled down, I point out that his beloved tigers have often been known to
maul human beings to death.
Tellingly, O’Brien gets defensive. “All tiger attacks on humans are a protest against
humans’ pro-lion bias,” he says, as if reading an official legal disclaimer. He then
reminds me that a tiger recently mauled Roy from Siegfried and Roy. “Another plus.”
The conversation takes a depressing turn as he reminds me that “Tigers are going to
be extinct in twenty years.”
“So are lions,” I say.
He ponders this carefully, before offering his response: “F*** ’em.”
Mike’s movie will be like a cross between Super Size Me and Fast Food Nation, though
with a greater focus on lions and tigers (with “Eye of the Tiger” as the inevitable theme
tune). “After we’ve opened with me slow-clapping the lion,” he enthuses, “the rest of
the movie will involve me going around the world interviewing people who like lions and
telling them why they’re wrong.”
To what purpose?
“You’ll slowly sense the tide turning against lions,” he grins. “An organic, united lobby
movement will grow and eventually spread from London to Los Angeles to Lahore. This
is the one cause that will unite the world. We’ll organise a march on Washington, led by
me. My movement will end the so-called Clash of Civilisations as we know it. All cultures
and peoples will unite in understanding that lions are not all that.”
I point out that it may lead to civil war in Detroit.
“Ah, but the Tigers will always beat the Lions!” he beams, mixing up his sports.
I am taken with his argument, though I start to wonder if it adds up to anything more
than an anti-China manifesto when he suddenly says, “Tiger meat is still a delicacy in
China.”
I question him on this, but he is vague: “We all need to watch China as it’s getting
pretty big, pretty quietly, pretty quickly.”
Then, after some deeper probing, and another bottle of wine, I discover that O’Brien
was urinated on by a tiger when he was a boy. Also, his mum’s first boyfriend was
killed by a tiger.
“These events may have had an influence on me,” he admits, before slipping into a
peaceful reverie, and presenting me with the opportunity to escape.
© lizardmagazine.com, 2007
Also by Dominic Hilton:
Mike’s clap, as you may have guessed, is deeply
sarcastic. To put it mildly, O’Brien is not impressed by
what he calls “the way everyone in the world thinks lions
are the balls.”
Clearly sick of watching lions revel in universal acclaim,
O'Brien wants to know why tigers don’t get at least
equal billing in the battle of the big cats. “Lions lie
around all day, doing nothing except quaffing their hair
and having sex,” he hisses. “They make the women
lions go out and hunt, while they snooze in the shade.
Then they get first pickings and –worst of all – go
around roaring, like they are the kings of the jungle.”
He watches me as I give his argument some thought.
“Notice how tigers don’t roar," he whispers. "They don’t
need to. Tigers are already cool enough, what with
those amazing stripes and everything.”
“So what?” I ask, pointedly.
sarcastic. To put it mildly, O’Brien is not impressed by
what he calls “the way everyone in the world thinks lions
are the balls.”
Clearly sick of watching lions revel in universal acclaim,
O'Brien wants to know why tigers don’t get at least
equal billing in the battle of the big cats. “Lions lie
around all day, doing nothing except quaffing their hair
and having sex,” he hisses. “They make the women
lions go out and hunt, while they snooze in the shade.
Then they get first pickings and –worst of all – go
around roaring, like they are the kings of the jungle.”
He watches me as I give his argument some thought.
“Notice how tigers don’t roar," he whispers. "They don’t
need to. Tigers are already cool enough, what with
those amazing stripes and everything.”
“So what?” I ask, pointedly.
O'Brien tries to look like
an intellectual leader by
wearing someone else's
glasses in photographs
an intellectual leader by
wearing someone else's
glasses in photographs