Local police recently issued what they described as their “strangest appeal ever” after reports of a crocodile lurking in a Derbyshire canal. Not exactly the tropical climate they’re used to, unless the reptile was drawn by the promise of Greggs and a decent pint.
Naturally, the public did what the British public does best in moments of crisis: they panicked, speculated wildly, and posted blurry photos online. One image showed what looked suspiciously like a log with commitment issues. Another was clearly a discarded inflatable from someone’s stag do. But facts never get in the way of a good urban legend.
Plus, be it a croc or a stag do, you’re happy if you can avoid it on your night out.
The police, to their credit, took the matter seriously. They issued a statement urging caution and asking anyone with information to come forward. Presumably they were hoping for a local zookeeper, or at least someone who’s watched more than three episodes of Steve Irwin: Croc Files. Instead, they got a wave of TikTokers turning up with drones, fishing rods, and one bloke dressed as Bear Grylls who tried to wrestle a traffic cone.
Also, well done to the fishing rod guy. I wish I had that level of misplaced self-confidence.
It’s moments like these that remind you just how British our approach to danger really is. America gets alligators in swimming pools and responds with helicopters and SWAT teams. We get a rumoured crocodile in a canal and respond with sarcasm, disbelief, and a petition to name it “Colin.”
Is that because we Brits are so different to the Americans, or is that one of the differences between crocodiles and alligators? Alligators swim in fresh water, whereas crocodile illicit a piss-taking response.
Of course, the crocodile turned out to be a hoax. Or a misidentification. Or possibly a hallucination brought on by too much WKD Blue. The police concluded there was “no credible evidence” of a reptilian menace. Which is a relief, unless you’re the crocodile, in which case it’s a bit of a snub. Which is also one of the differences with an alligator.
But the story raises important questions. Like: why do we keep imagining exotic animals in British settings? We’ve had panthers in Cornwall, wallabies in Cumbria, and now crocodiles in Dudley. It’s as if the nation collectively decided that Countryfile wasn’t spicy enough.
Every few years people say there’s a lion on the loose in Essex and it’s always a normal ginger cat sat a bit closer than the photographer realised.
Maybe it’s escapism. Or maybe we just really want to believe that our canals are more exciting than they are. After all, if you’ve ever walked along one, you’ll know they’re mostly just damp corridors for joggers and ducks with attitude.
Still, I say let’s lean in. Let’s embrace the madness. Next time someone spots a giraffe in Grimsby or a kangaroo in Kent, let’s not question it. Let’s give it a name, a backstory, and a Twitter account. Because in a world full of grim headlines, sometimes you need a crocodile in a canal to remind you that Britain is still gloriously, eccentrically bonkers.
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