How Hard Can It Be_ - Jeremy Clarkson [19]
If you don’t believe me, take a look at Henry VIII. He caught something nasty from a hooker, went mad and took England out of the Catholic church. This forced a bunch of Bible-bashers to set up shop in America, which consequently became an English-speaking country. And as a result of that, we have to support them in their various military escapades around the globe. Our soldiers, then, are getting blown up in Helmand simply because Henry fancied some out-of-wedlock rumpy-pumpy with Miss Syphilis 1510.
I don’t think you should rent anything. If it’s a house, you’ll fall out with the owners, because you won’t clean it to their level of expectation and they won’t mend stuff quite as quickly as you want. If it’s a car – who knows what kind of madman was in it last week? Me, probably. So the brakes will almost certainly disintegrate the first time you need them and then you’ll be killed. And if it’s a holiday cottage, you will be disappointed. This is because no one has ever walked into a seaside villa and thought, wow, this is much better than I was expecting. All rented properties are moderately worse than the pictures in the brochure suggest. This is a fact.
And on top of all this, nothing says you’ve failed in life quite so neatly as a Hertz key ring or a need to spend your evening bouncing up and down on six stone of Estonian skin and bone.
That said, however, I was drawn last week to the news that Londoners can now rent a dog. The idea is very simple. You pay an American company called Flexpetz an annual fee of £3,350, and for that you get four ‘doggy days’ a month. It’s not cheap, but the firm will give you a lead, and the advantages are huge … My house is carpeted with dogs. They are everywhere; and apart from the labrador that ate slug pellets and is now a drooling vegetable, I love them all very much indeed. Which means I shall be extremely tearful when one of them dies. That’s the beauty of rent-a-dog. You get those furry chops to stroke and the big brown eyes and the gentle farting noises as it lies by the fire. Then, when it pegs out, you just hose it into the gutter, call Flexpetz and get another.
It gets better. At present my yard is peppered with about forty dog eggs every day. Disgusting. However, you can pick up a rental dog in the morning, after it’s been to the lavatory, and then give it back as soon as its legs start to cross. And, of course, you never need worry about leaving a rental dog in the car while you’re at work. Or which kennels to use when you’re on holiday. Or what to do when it goes bald and starts to smell.
What’s more, if you split with your other half, you no longer have to saw the dog in two and then argue about who gets the interesting end. Or worry because your former husband insists on the back.
You can even tailor the dog to meet your requirements. So for my trips to the Isle of Man, where there are many ramblers, I’d get an enormous bull mastiff leopard German Nazi killer dog. And then in London I’d have a yorkie – the only thing in the world guaranteed to get you more sex than a Gulfstream V jet.
You needn’t even be put off by Flexpetz’s insistence that you feed its animals on holistic food. This sounds like expensive nonsense for weak blonde ladies who lunch. In fact it means food in its natural state. A recently killed rabbit – or rambler – is therefore fine.
Of course, some people say it is cruel to rent out pets in this way. An RSPCA spokesman said last week that ‘most dogs need the security of a proper routine with one owner, and without this they could become stressed and unhappy’. He’s wrong. My dogs love me because I tickle their tummies. If a burglar did that, they’d love him just as much – more, if he gave them a ham sandwich as well. Dogs love whoever happens to feed them, so you can be assured that if you feed your rent-a-dog it will love you too.
So there we are. If it floats, flies or fornicates, you are better off buying; but if it barks, reach for the rental agreement.
Sunday 27 April