"It turns out in the real world, hippos fucking kill people. There's this word, 'territorial', that nature takes pretty seriously. When it's applied to a two-ton animal with teeth the size of bowling pins, that is one hell of a word. The sort of word you either pay very close attention to, or end up with a complimentary 'Killed to death by a fucking hippo' tombstone. That sort of thing is really embarrassing for the family, you know?"
"Okay that’s it. Stop. Sorry. This is a real pet peeve of mine. Why the fuck do hippos get a free pass? Why do we still labour under this misguided delusion that hippos are our friends? Hippos are not our friends. Hippos are our worst enemies (and that’s saying something, human beings have a larger and more impressive rogues gallery than Batman). We treat sharks like they’re Satan with a mohawk and yet how do we depict literally the most dangerous animal in all of Africa? [...] We make little boardgames of them swallowing marbles and stick them on cereal boxes. Why? Because they look like sentient leather couches? In conclusion: Fuck hippos."
