Before I do the whole bad taste thing, I’d just like to point out that I’ve got — had — nothing against Steve Irwin (beyond the fact that for some reason his site isn’t responding tonight). I’d only watched a couple of his shows, but his enthusiasm shone through. He always struck me as a bloke who loved animals, loved working with animals, and pretty much loved his job. I make bad taste jokes to my friends and family when they have unpleasant situations to deal with.I do it because by nature I’m flippant, and by nature I want to see the funny side of things. I hope if there’s a heaven up there somewhere connected to the internet, and Steve gets to read this post, it raises a chuckle.

In some respects, it’s like going to a funeral. On the way there, everyone’s sad an sombre; on the way back you’ve had a sense of closure and you’re cracking jokes and telling stories that you think the deceased would have appreciated. That’s the intention here. So, apologies if I offend anyone.

So, Steve Irwin, crocodile hunter extraordinaire, has been killed by a stingray. Excuse me? A stingray? He’s got to be disappointed with that, surely. They’ve killed 17 people, worldwide, up to 1996. Compare that with crocodiles (leading animal cause of death, 2001), or the great white shark (bloody lethal, but only 31 deaths in the med since 1800). For someone famous for dealing with big nasty dangerous animals, he’ll be disappointed it was a stingray took him out. Yes, they are dangerous — obviously particularly so if they pierce your heart with their barbed tail — but compared to Steve’s normal staple they’re virtually pussycats.

I mean, for a man that’s survived so many unpleasant encounters with, lets face it, bloody dangerous animals, presumably even God was beginning to wonder if Steve was invulnerable. It turns out he wasn’t, as it happens.

So Steve, I’m sorry you’re gone. You were a bloody good TV presenter, and we’ll miss ya. To try and speak a bit of Aussie to make you feel at home in case you’re reading this: grab yourself a tinnie, sit down and have a barbie. Bonzer. Or something.

And then, someone said to me “well, it’s the way he would have wanted to go.”

Bollocks.

The way he would have wanted to go would have been in bed at the age of 309, having just seen Australia win the world cup, while having absolutely fantastic sex. I mean, that’s how I want to go, only with Newcastle winning the league, which is why I think I need to aim for 309.

But, if there is an up there and you’re up there reading this, I hope it’s raised a smile. Meanwhile, if it turns out there is an up there, by the time I get there I hope to be able to catch the re-runs of Steve Irwin: Beelzebub Hunter.