Jacques Cousteau’s grandson, Fabien, is following in his illustrious forebear’s flippers by building a shark-shaped submarine. By means of this ingenious device he will get closer to his toothy subjects than ever before, without altering their natural behaviour in such circumstances: ie, to immediately rip him limb from limb and swallow the still twitching chunks whole.
We await with interest the first time he uses the thing during mating season, whereupon death might suddenly lose its sting.
His interviewers are too polite to ask whether he has tested his shark sub on unsuspecting swimmers. This would present an almost irresistable temptation for any normal human, but marine scientists are obviously made of sterner and more disciplined stuff. Also M. Cousteau is French, and so a bit lacking re sense of humour.
Instead he is wholly devoted to far worthier aims. Through close and dispassionate study, he hopes to dispel the popular image of Great Whites as “bloodthirsty serial killers”. “Fewer than 12 people a year are killed by whites. We shouldn't demonise them so much” he opines. Will he then discard his submarine subterfuge to frolic openly with these gentle denizens of the deep? No.
The dozen people killed and eaten by Great Whites in the last twelve months were not available for comment.
Young Cousteau and his remarkable disguise yesterday. Proof if it were needed that the only way to avoid ending up inside a shark is to already be in one.