In a development that has sent shivers down the spines of gin-sippers and wildlife enthusiasts alike, an 'extremely intelligent' bear is currently on the loose in Japan after mauling four people. Yes, you read that correctly. A bear so cunning, so Machiavellian, that British animal behaviourists have been consulted. Because if there is one thing the British are good at, it is analysing the psychology of creatures that could tear your face off with a single swipe.
This is not your average, lumbering, picnic-basket-stealing oaf. This is a mastermind. A furry Hannibal Lecter with claws. Reports indicate the bear has been evading capture with a level of sophistication that would make MI5 blush. It has been spotted checking its reflection in shop windows, adjusting its tie, and possibly composing haikus about the futility of human existence.
How do we know it's 'extremely intelligent'? Because the authorities said so. And they never lie, do they? The Japanese police have set up roadblocks and are using drones, but the bear continues to outwit them. It has been seen using public transport, for goodness sake. A bear with a Suica card. Is there nothing sacred?
Enter the British animal behaviourists. A crack team of tweed-clad experts who have studied the mating habits of the badger and the migratory patterns of the Cumbrian hedgehog. They have been flown in to offer their expertise, presumably at great expense to the Japanese taxpayer. One can only imagine the advice they are offering. 'Perhaps if you leave out a copy of The Times and a pot of Earl Grey, the bear will engage in a civilised discussion.' Or, 'The key is to establish dominance. Try staring at it through a monocle.'
Meanwhile, the bear continues its rampage. It has reportedly been seen reading a copy of 'The Art of War' by Sun Tzu. It has been spotted in a library, studying maps of the local terrain. It has even been seen shaking hands with a local politician, a gesture that is both terrifying and oddly polite.
The locals are, understandably, terrified. They have been advised to stay indoors and lock their doors. But what good are locks against a bear that can pick them? What good is a door against a bear that can charm its way through with a witty anecdote and a business card?
As I write this, the bear is still at large. The British behaviourists are still consulting. The gin is still flowing. I can only assume that at some point, someone will suggest offering the bear a position in the government. It has, after all, demonstrated more intelligence than most of the current cabinet.
Stay tuned, dear readers. In a world gone mad, even the bears are getting in on the act. I, for one, welcome our new ursine overlords. At least they have a sense of style.
