Ha ha. Turkeys. Nature’s goblins. Every December we remember that we live on the same planet as these eccentric beasts, and as soon as we do, we shove them in the oven and eat them.
But what’s this? A family who seem to be raising a turkey as though it were a human? It cannot be. This particular bird seems an absolute hoot of a pet, treating the house as its catwalk, skateboarding (no helmet), and even posing for selfies with the children, like a wattle-y Kardashian. As Westlife’s Flying Without Wings sloshes over us like sweet gravy, the turkey ages through the seasons, finally experiencing the white blanket of winter and being banished to a shed.
Cut to Christmas dinner. Dad, facing the oven, turns around to reveal the fruits of his labour. We fear the worst: the brute has murdered his own pet for supper, teaching his children a crucial lesson about the necessity of decapitating the ones you love. The truth is worse than this, and uglier than Terry the Turkey. Dad’s been looking online for recipes; he wheels around and presents to his family a nut roast in a miserable, tiny container. Instead of hearing the inner monologues of his wife and children - “Dad’s lost it”; “do you reckon Nando’s is open on Christmas Day?” - Westlife reach their crescendo and the turkey, now sitting at the head of the table, cackles triumphantly.
Just what this turkey has to do with a telecommunication network is unclear. But if you want to avoid seeing your extended family in person this Christmas – speaking to them by phone instead – keeping a massive live turkey in your house and only serving nut roast seems a pretty efficient method.
