For those of you who have no idea who i am talking about, Mears is a softly spoken chap, commonly seen wearing assorted shades of khahi green in forests around the world. Quite simply he is the finest thing on BBC 2 (apologies to anyone outside the UK… you have no idea what you’re missing)

With a haircut so sensible that it could have belonged to a 14th century monk, Mears demonstrates the art of bushcraft (note for the smut-driven, not the sort that involves shaping body hair into heart-shapes). This goes far beyond rubbing 2 sticks together to make a fire. With little more than a sturdy knife and hatchet, I have seen him make shelters, bows (and arrows), string, and even a canoe out of plants and trees. He’s like a combination of the A-Team and the Wombles.

As with the Most Haunted rant, I am watching him at this moment. He has just pulled a load of seeds of some grass, filling a large basket. In addition to the goodness contained in the grass seeds, his academic associate has just explained that there is added goodness from insects and also insect faeces. Next time I have a dinner party, perhaps I will spice things up with the nutritional bonus of weevil shit.

He could so easily be some hippy wuss, telling us nothing but how we have bummed nature beyond repair. Instead, he just celebrates the skills of prehistoric cultures and puts them to good use. Having crafted a bow and assembled his arrows (from flints and some kind of glue… missed that bit), I have watched him stalk deer through the forest and (subject to some sanitising edits) kill a deer, butcher it, and tuck in.

In fact… he has just taken out a bloody sniper rifle and shot one! You don’t see Bill Oddie firing a catapult at Ospreys, or David Attenborough throwing knives at lions do you?!? At present, he has just pulled the deer’s liver out, and is examining it for signs of disease before lobbing it right onto his fire.

God, I want a kebab right now.

My apologies to any vegetarians reading this by the way. Not because I’d hate them to be offended by this lot, just because i feel sorry for anyone who doesn’t eat meat (without just reasons such as religion or medical excuse).

Never let it be said that this blog is not educational- I think it only fair to share the knowledge. Apparently, to air-dry freshly killed venison all you need is a wigwam of poles and green shoots. If I happened to have such a wigwam, I would be up at Bradgate Park right now getting supplies for the next few weeks. unfortunately I think I must have left the wigwam in Manchester, so it’s just the usual Asda run instead.

Also on my list of things to do is to raid a wood ant’s nest. not sure why he’s done it, but I suspect that he’s going to stew the pupae. In fact, the bearded academic (who i hope is ritually slaughtered at the end of the series) is eating an ant and then commenting how bland they are. Now if I was going to go to the trouble of ramming my hands into an ants nest, pissing them off to the point that they are spraying formic acid all over the place, I would want the ants to taste like strawberries dipped in gin.i certainly wouldn’t repeat the process if it was going to be as bland and uneventful as a Westlife album.

One of the great comedy moments though was when some poor bastard in Norway had slaved away demonstrating traditional blacksmithing. He must have spent hours over the fire, slowly crafting a knife for Mr Mears. Once the blade and tang had been crafted, this guy then created the handle by adding small disks of leather and wood to the tang, creating a sharp, sturdy, and very well crafted knife. In response, Ray explained to the camera that there was an old tradition that when someone gives you a knife, you give them a silver coin.

The look on the blacksmith’s face was a treat. Imagine if you had gone to all that work, and you got 50p for your trouble. I am fairly sure that he paid for the knife as well as continuing this (unheard of) tradition… but it was quite clear that the poor blacksmith thought that he’d been stiffed!

I bet that when the cameras are off, one of 2 things happens… he either raids a badger’s sett, and kidnaps one for a wild night of illicit lust; an orgy of woodman and creature, fuelled by magic mushrooms and fermented badger piss. Alternatively, he lights a sobranie cocktail cigarette in an ornate ivory holder, slips into a velvet smoking jacket, and retires to an ornate gypsy caravan for theraputic massage from 17 Romany maidens.

Sadly, for every Ray Mears, there are hundreds of pain-in-the-arse ramblers. From my days of enforced camping trips at school (damn you Mr Doughty), I have had the misfortune to see these sad characters who think that a waxed gor-tex jacket and a knife off ebay makes you a survival expert. All I ever gave a  toss about was staying warm and boiling water for a vesta curry. We have developed bricks, refrigeration, and distillation. Unless you are willing to really get stuck into the life of a bushman, I just can’t see the point of spurning our modern advances that make life so relaxing!

In summary, should society crumble, and we revert back to tribes living in forests and caves… i vote that Ray Mears should be my chief!