Er… Steve? Image via discovery. 

Before yesterday evening I would have sworn, in a document written using my own blood if necessary, that I had sat through every conceivable televisual extrapolation of man’s fascination with Great White Sharks.

I’ve watched Robin Reliant sized members of this extensively toothed species launch themselves out of the water in pursuit of Styrofoam seals, force their way into pitifully inadequate dive cages and literally hundreds of hours of footage of them swimming in the vicinity of divers armed with cameras and inadequate poky sticks, the expressions on their pointy faces suggesting they’re as bored and pissed off with the whole charade as I am.

But that was the old days, before Steve Backshall.

Continue reading “TV Review: Swimming With (Empathetic) Monsters” →