Witnesses described the harrowing encounter as a woman fell into the silver-furred Buddy exhibit at the Bronx Zoo this week.
NEW YORK – Corey Anderson couldn’t watch as the woman tumbled into the zoo habitat.
The Manhattan man had taken his kids to the zoo and the little ones were pointing excitedly at the silver-furred Buddy exhibit when a woman climbed the barrier to get a better look at the tiny terror, slipped and fell into the enclosure with the apex predator.
“I grabbed my kids, shielded their eyes and had just turned away,” Anderson recalled with a shudder. “The sounds…it was horrific. It sounded like an enraged Elmo demolishing a plate of wings.”
Smartphone footage shot by other guests confirmed the grisly sequence. The woman landed awkwardly but was apparently unhurt as she stood and began to dust herself off, unaware of the intimidating shadow creeping up on her from behind.
“Absolute mayhem,” is the way Franz Muller described it. “Die mächtige katze! Das grauen! I have never seen ankles bleed as much as I have on this day!”
After initially shocking the uninvited guest with a swipe at her bare skin, the silver-furred Buddy proferred a single paw as if expecting something from the woman, “but when it became clear she was empty-handed, the Buddy flew into a rage and launched himself at her lower extremities,” Muller said.
Zookeepers arrived quickly amid the screams of shocked guests and held up a vacuum in warning, the footage shows. When the silver-furred Buddy hissed but showed no signs of retreating, one of the zookeepers flipped the power switch.
“The Buddy stopped, hackles raised, then bolted for the safety of his den,” said another witness, Eleni Xanthopoulou.
The silver-furred Buddy with Lyle, center, and Sir Malcolm Murray, president of the zoo’s board of trustees.
The victim, a 32-year-old interior designer, was rushed to an emergency medical clinic, where she was treated for “multiple lacerations to the ankles, feet and lower legs,” police said.
Bronx Zoo Officials said the silver-furred Buddy would not be punished for the attack.
“He did nothing wrong,” head carnivore keeper Ferdinand Lyle said as he cradled the deadly cat. “He’s such a good boy. Who’s a good boy? You are, aren’t you? Yes, yes, a good boy!”
Unlike anything else on TV, Slow Horses expertly blends action, intrigue and wit for an unrelenting spy thriller.
Someone’s coming for the Slow Horses, and our heroes don’t have plot armor.
In our first review of Apple TV’s smash spy hit Slow Horses more than two and a half years ago, we called it the best thriller on TV and praised Gary Oldman’s turn as the surly codger Jackson Lamb, who captains an office of MI5’s worst screw-ups and delights in tormenting them.
Now in its sixth season, the espionage drama has never been better.
The show’s writers have perfected the art of cranking up tension while knowing when to cut it with dry humor, whether it’s Lamb’s biting sarcasm, agent River Cartwright’s annoying earnestness or the delusional confidence of Roddy Ho, the Slow Horses’ tech specialist who believes women are lining up to get a crack at him.
The last two seasons have seen the Horses dismantle a terror ring, get pulled into the ugliness of national politics, and face down an extraordinary manipulator with a serious grudge against the British.
James Callis and Kristen Scott Thomas play MI5’s bosses in the UK spy thriller. Credit: Apple TV
The sixth season is the deadliest yet, with an unidentified foe from the past systematically assassinating anyone who’s ever worked at Slough House, the Horses’ dilapidated, grubby headquarters.
They lock one former Horse in a shipping container full of accelerant and burn him alive, drown another in London’s canals, and stage the death of a third with a lethal gas before Lamb and his “losers” (his words) realize they’ve got targets on their backs. And that’s just the very beginning of the season.
All three assassinations are meant to look like accidents, but Lamb tells the Horses to go to ground. The show’s spies have occasionally reminded the audience there are two sets of rules: under Moscow rules, watch your back. Under London rules, cover your arse.
Lamb fears he and his agents are the sacrifice in a panicked MI5 attempt at arse-covering, meaning Moscow and London rules are now in play. The Slow Horses will get no help from “the park,” MI5’s headquarters, nor from any of its brass, who are likely in on the plot to stab Lamb and his spies in the back.
Oldman’s Jackson Lamb, whose rumpled, hygienically challenged appearance masks the sharp mind of a Cold War veteran spy always several steps ahead of everyone else. Credit: Apple TV
No fat or filler
At a time when it’s unfortunately common for TV shows to take two or even three-year breaks between seasons (with Netfix taking more than five years between installments of one of its most popular shows), Slow Horses releases a new season like clockwork every 11 or 12 months.
The showrunners accomplish this in part because they’re constantly writing, even while filming, and because with six hour-long episodes per season, there is no filler. Things move fast, plots ramp up quickly, and we learn about the characters not through leisurely exposition but in the most natural way, by seeing how they react and pull together when things are at their worst.
Oldman’s Lamb is the role of a lifetime and the veteran actor is at his best here, only occasionally letting his vulgar, derisive mask slip to show paternalistic care for the agents under his wing. Not all of them are the screw-ups they’re portrayed as, and some are actually excellent spies who have been railroaded or sidelined due to character issues.
Shirley, center, shows the other Slow Horses video proof that an assassination squad is after one of their own. Credit: Apple TV
Cartwright (Jack Lowden), the most prominent of them, unknowingly did too good of a job when tailing MI5’s second-in-command during a training exercise and caught her debriefing an off-the-books agent who was tasked with burying one of the agency’s worst screw-ups. His reward was being set up to fail in a major training exercise and a subsequent exile to Slough House.
Shirley (Aimee-Ffion Edwards) is almost as abrasive as Lamb and has a drug problem, but is also an extremely capable agent, a crack shot and, in the words of Lamb, “a brave little hobbit” who routinely charges into the most dangerous situations despite her tiny 5’1″ frame. She’s also the first to realize a plot against MI5 in one season and is repeatedly dismissed as paranoid and crazy before reality forces the brass to acknowledge they have a serious problem on their hands.
A “brave little hobbit”: Aimee-Ffion Edwards plays the Welsh spy Shirley Dander. Credit: AppleTV
Catherine Standish (Saskia Reeves) is routinely overlooked because of her past as an alcoholic, but proves to be a quick thinker and uses her useless reputation as camouflage to devastating effect, while the mysterious Coe (Tom Brooke) is understated and hides a sharp mind.
Then there’s Roddy Ho, who lives in a universe of his own creation, one where he’s absolute catnip to women, a hacker of worldwide repute and a legend in the spy world. Ho incessantly invents flattering nicknames for himself — the Rodzilla, the HoDron Collider, the Hot Rod, the Ramrod, “Roddy by name, Ho by nature” — bragging to one MI5 bigwig that he has “many nom de guerre.”
“I am mythical, historical and futuristical!” he says in one scene, flexing his biceps and bragging that he’s been called a dragonslayer and the True King of Gondor.
Roddy Ho, the Slow Horses’ tech specialist, lives in a universe of his own creation. Credit: Apple TV
In a lesser actor’s hands, the performance would be over the top to the point of pulling viewers out of the narrative, but Christopher Chung imbues Ho with off-the-scale confidence so he comes off as a man-child who’s been telling himself legends of his own invention for so long that he can’t distinguish between reality and fantasy.
It makes for rich comedic material even in the most tense situations. Ho can go from cowering in a bathroom while yelling “I don’t want to die!” to bragging about his martial prowess in the blink of an eye, and somehow it works.
Both the show’s humor and spy narratives are top notch, and we get plenty of action worthy of Hollywood blockbusters, with spectacular set pieces, brutal fights and explosions enough to satisfy even Michael Bay.
American audiences haven’t fully caught on, and I expect that’s because we generally don’t do the kind of ultra-dry humor that is a trademark of the UK’s best productions. But I’d advise anyone to give it a shot. This isn’t a show you watch with one eye on your smartphone. It demands your full attention, and it rewards you in equal measure.
Slow Horses is currently airing its sixth season on Apple TV, with a seventh already filmed and slated for release next year.
Header image of River Cartwright (Jack Lowden) credit: Apple TV
We asked six cats what they think about a prominent story in this week’s headlines.
President Donald Trump escalated his trade war with the Canadians this week by renaming Lake Ontario to Lake America and threatening to increase the punishing tariffs he levied on our northern neighbors.
What do you think about the move to rename the lake?
“He owned the libs! The libs have been owned!” – Alex, 6, furniture tester
“That oughtta teach ’em not to mess with the US of A!” -Rufus, 17, retired competitive eater
“Canada? What’s that, like a new beverage or something?” – Bubbles, 8, office assistant
“Look upon our works, ye mighty, and tremble! Nothing beside remains of that frozen wasteland, round the decay, of the colossal tundra boundless and bare. The lone and level permafrost stretches far away.” – Screecher, 3, public meowing coach
“The lake just became 78% more awesome. We should dye the water red, white and blue, and release bald eagles over the lake during a patriotic Kid Rock concert for true patriots.” – Dwight Eisenmeower, 10, bodybuilder
“I’m glad we’re able to settle these disputes like responsible adults and talk out our problems.” – Cleo, 15 months, mouser understudy
The new Netflix animated comedy from Ricky Gervais has its moments, but it’s overly dependent on litter box humor and its attempts at redemptive sweetness border on the diabetic.
Ricky Gervais’ eponymous alley cats have one thing in common with Buddy: they think they’re the toughest, most fearsome creatures on the block.
They might recoil in horror, jump back a dozen feet and soil themselves when a vegetable delivery man drops a cucumber on the sidewalk, but approximately half of their obscenity-peppered banter involves discussing other living things they reckon they’d destroy.
Among them: snails, elephants, meerkats, portly humans, sharks and anything besides spiders who are, invariably, referred to as “a bunch of c—s.”
When they’re not praising themselves for being fearless apex predators, hunting mice or watching “a bit of telly,” they’re ripping on Rupert, the only house cat in their gang, by reminding him he no longer has his testicles.
In an early episode the gang is poised on the wall of a cemetery, impatiently waiting for a “dead c—” to get buried so they can go hunting for mice when Rupert pads up, says hello and announces he’s already eaten: chicken and rabbit in gravy “with extra calcium.”
The others tear into him, asking him if his humans brushed him or gave him pudding afterwards.
“I have my pudding during the brushing,” he says, explaining that brushing is stressful and a simultaneous dessert “takes the edge off.”
That prompts another round of full-throated laughter and ball-busting over Rupert’s lack of them. Ricky Gervais’ Gus and Andrew Brooke’s Fang – a big bruiser tuxedo tom – lead the charge, making kissing sounds and mocking Rupert for being a sweet pet to his “mummy and daddy.”
When the scrawny Puke (David Earl) uses the freshly-dug grave as a litter box and Rupert protests, Gus waves a dismissive paw, insisting all humans are scum anyway.
“Not all of them,” Rupert says. “Attenborough. Malala. My owners, for instance.”
“His owners!” Fang says, breaking into mocking laughter.
“Do you hear yourself?” Gus says.
“They are my owners,” Rupert sniffs. “They paid a tidy sum for me, and I’m grateful. Otherwise I’d be rotting in a shelter or worse, living in a dump like you lot.”
Which, of course, prompts another round of mockery about Rupert’s missing bits.
After agreeing they’re the toughest, baddest cats on the block, Gus and the gang are terrified by the sight of a single cucumber.
That’s Alley Cats in a nutshell, no pun intended, until the appearance of a lost kitten gives the gang a purpose and brings out their humanity. (Catanity? Felinity?)
At first the alley cats are tempted to make a snack of the little one until Olive (Diane Morgan) reminds them she’s a baby, she’s lost, and they’re big, strong cats, which they’re always reminding everyone of.
Amid all the obscenities there are moments acknowledging that being a street cat is not an easy life. One minute the strays are joyously knocking flower pots off a window sill, the next they’re staring shocked at the body of their friend who was hit by a driver.
“He didn’t even stop,” one of them says. “He didn’t care.”
“Humans never do,” Gus replies matter-of-factly.
Later they find another one of their mates, an elderly tom, stuffed in a carrier.
“Off to the vet,” their friend says from his confinement.
“He’ll fix you right up,” Gus says.
“Nah,” the scraggly old tom says sadly. “I overheard ’em. This is a one-way trip.”
With their earlier exuberance wiped out, the alley cats decide to retreat for the day, prompting the kitten to ask them uncomfortable questions about mortality and what kind of life a cat can expect.
For Gus, it means being put in a tough spot. He clearly cares for the kitten, even inviting her to snuggle up with him when she’s whimpering alone at night, but he has a reputation to maintain. He’s Gus, fearless and tough street cat!
Gus fancies a tabby from his neighborhood, but usually keeps his distance for fear of her intimidating boy(cat) friend.
Alley Cats is not for everyone. There will be people who reach for the remote within the first two or three minutes because it is relentlessly obscene.
I’m not particularly bothered by foul language if there’s a genuine purpose to it, but too often it feels like it’s in the script in lieu of genuine jokes, as if Gervais is elbowing us like “See what I did there? I called him a c—! Haha! That’s funny, innit? My character is a cat who calls everyone c—s and tw–s! Brilliant.”
The UK press has savaged the show, concluding Gervais is capable of comedic brilliance but has become lazy and formulaic.
And that’s true to a degree, just like it’s accurate to say South Park is a festival of fart jokes. But just like the latter show also has a sharp satirical edge and functions as an equal opportunity eviscerator of the ridiculous, Alley Cats tries to say more. It just isn’t always successful.
Heathcliff and the Catillac Cats are the family-friendly animated template for Alley Cats. Reruns of Heathcliff were part of after-school cartoon blocks in the late 80s and early 90s.
Whether you stick around for the bigger themes depends on your personal tolerance for the banter they’re wrapped in.
Unfortunately it’s also true that the reflective moments are a little too formulaic, like the lesson-of-the-day from after-school TV years ago. Balancing comedy with earnestness is already a difficult task that requires timing and a degree of self-awareness that I’m not sure Gervais possesses at this stage of his career.
Reviewers who have soured on the UK comedian are increasingly convinced he requires the tempering influence of his The Office co-creator and writer, Stephen Merchant.
They may be on to something, but I also think it may cut both ways.
I really enjoyed Merchant’s HBO series, Hello Ladies. It was unlike anything else on TV and felt like a genuinely fresh approach to comedy. But it also operated at a default cringe level orders of magnitude more uncomfortable than other shows.
There were times when the situations in Hello Ladies became so embarrassing, so completely detached from the norms of social behavior, that I had to pause the show and take a break.
Gervais and Merchant could temper each other’s worst instincts as they did in The Office.
I’m not the only one who felt that way. Reviews at the time were fixated on the improbably powerful osmotic cringe effect, and Merchant didn’t know when to let up. Just as you felt so mortified that you’d swear things couldn’t possibly get worse, Merchant found ways to crank it up.
The career trajectories of both men indicate a reunion just might be the best thing for them. If Netflix gives Alley Cats a green light for another season, Merchant could fit right in with the gang as a lanky Savannah, a wannabe Lothario who prompts Gervais’ Gus to lean less on the c-word and more on genuine humor, while Gus could bring Merchant’s cat back down to Earth by reintroducing him to reality every once in a while.
I’m sure that, whatever might come from a new collaboration, it would be better than the moderately funny Alley Cats.
Heads up: Recently I discovered a content scraper was skimming posts from this site and repackaging them as books priced at $40 each. I was able to get that person’s online shop terminated, but have since discovered there are at least two others, including one who repackaged my “Amazing Cats” series. The other is even more exorbitantly priced and appears as part of a trove of materials on an Etsy shop marketed to people who want to put out their own books, and claims to offer chapter modules that can be assembled into custom books, which can then be listed for sale on Amazon et al.
Please do not buy them. These people are NOT affiliated with Pain In The Bud and they do not have permission to use content from this site. The posts they pilfered from are free and remain on this site available to everyone. I’d hate to see people buy this stuff believing they’re supporting the site and end up getting ripped off.
The comedian’s animated show for adults imagines life through the eyes of sarcastic street cats.
When a lost kitten says he wishes he’d never been born, scruffy tomcat Gus is in disbelief.
“Don’t ever say that! Life is a gift, and you’re a cat!” Gus says. “Do you know how good that is, to be a cat?”
“Pretty good?” the kitten asks.
“It’s f—ing great!”
That’s one of a few short scenes revealed in the first trailer for Alley Cats, a new Netflix show created by Ricky Gervais. The comedian plays Gus and an ensemble cast provides the voices of the other neighborhood strays, who seem to spend most of their time veering from one lazy activity to the next while zinging each other with one-liners.
Warning: NSFW language in this trailer:
Although it’s animated, Alley Cats is a comedy for adults. Think South Park except with cats and a much more sarcastic, dry sense of humor. As the trailer makes clear, it’s irreverent and over-the-top, and it seems to tie cat humor in well with broader comedy.
