Being Human

I don't suppose you would consider... y'know, just for a moment....

After all, you are – sort of – a rather attractive... erm... well, although there are some superficial resemblances to the human, I'm not quite sure if you'd actually qualify, not outside those remote rural backwaters where interbreeding has produced some remarkable genetic cock-ups, anyway.

Not that – to be honest – being human is all that it is cracked up to be, anyway. I mean, well, we've got the talking and the tool-making abilities, granted. But this whole genitalia thing is a bit of a botch job and walking upright - for those of us who've managed it - seems at first glance a good thing. There does seem to be quite a lot of back problems which seem to make the thing about reaching the high shelves in the supermarket as more of a curse than a boon.

Then there is this leg business. As a method of locomotion it does – more or less – serve the purpose, but the thing is you are never quite sure what to do with the legs when you are not using them. Then there is the thing which the wife does while sleeping which seems to involve her using the whole of the bed – and the quilt – leaving you with little more than the top corner to curl up in while she - somehow – turns into a snugly duvet-wrapped octopus spread out over the other 95% of the bed.

Makes you realise that 'Intelligent Design' is a load of old bollocks though, and that can only ever be a good thing.