Crikey!

Here's a little extract from Germaine Greer writing in the Guardian. Beauty!

"What Irwin never seemed to understand was that animals need space. The one lesson any conservationist must labour to drive home is that habitat loss is the principal cause of species loss. There was no habitat, no matter how fragile or finely balanced, that Irwin hesitated to barge into, trumpeting his wonder and amazement to the skies. There was not an animal he was not prepared to manhandle. Every creature he brandished at the camera was in distress. Every snake badgered by Irwin was at a huge disadvantage, with only a single possible reaction to its terrifying situation, which was to strike. Easy enough to avoid, if you know what's coming. Even my cat knew that much. Those of us who live with snakes, as I do with no fewer than 12 front-fanged venomous snake species in my bit of Queensland rainforest, know that they will get out of our way if we leave them a choice. Some snakes are described as aggressive, but, if you're a snake, unprovoked aggression doesn't make sense. Snakes on a plane only want to get off. But Irwin was an entertainer, a 21st-century version of a lion-tamer, with crocodiles instead of lions."

According to another article I read recently (but can't find now) the term 'snakes on a plane' has become a kind of US shorthand for c'est la vie. For example: one chap drives into the back of another at a junction. They get out to inspect the damage. The guy whose car has been bumped is distraught.

"Look what you've done to my car!" he cries.

"Snakes on a plane, dude. Snakes on a plane."

And, for me, this sums up the silly Australian's fate.