I have previously been deeply offended by overhearing my graceful features described as reptilian. One could blame the sun, or the wind, or even age as the reason for the leathery folds of weather beaten skin apparently hanging off my face. Personally, I prefer to put it down to a busy life spent gaining experience in the front line. However, there would appear to be some justice in the world after all. In order to recompense me for my wrinkled looks, The Big One Up There gave me the gift of voice. Not just any voice, mind, but a BBC World Service voice. Now, finally, after years of suffering torment, anguish and inner turmoil from this split identity, the two have at last become fused. For my name is Josh, and I am a turtle.

Well, actually, I’m just the voice of a turtle. I wasn’t even offered the option of a starring role. This was given, rather unfairly I thought considering my reptilian appearance, to a Hawksbill turtle in Shaab Ali - and what does he know ? 100 million years worth of evolution and he still can’t tell the difference between a jellyfish and a plastic shopping bag. Not until it’s too late anyway. I agree that he can hold his breath longer than me, but then that’s why tanks were invented. Now, that’s something we humans are good at. Inventions. I’ve often wondered why people still insist on walking when there’s a perfectly acceptable car available, or rowing a boat whilst an outboard motor languishes idly in the corner. Watching Madonna’s aerobics DVD on a 46 inch plasma screen is far more interesting than going to the gym, and just as  beneficial. It raises ones heart rate, opens the pores, and the repeat button on the remote control exercises ones thumb more than adequately.

Of course, some of our inventions leave a lot to be desired. In these days of carbon emission consciousness, when the power required to run our monstrous air conditioning units throughout the summer produces a carbon footprint the size of Outer Mongolia, we should idealistically choose to sweat it out rather than destroy our children’s world. Now, I’m all in favour of re-cycling, but why some divers choose to re-breath their own expelled air whilst contaminating the world with the tons of noxious chemicals required to clean it remains totally beyond my comprehension. It’s not as if air is in particularly short supply after all. Not yet anyway. However, I digress. I must now jump in my 4x4 V8 air conditioned gas guzzling jeep to travel 100 metres to the shops and pick up my groceries. Being environmentally aware, I won’t be using plastic bags to carry my shopping home. I’m re-cycling jellyfish.