I SEEM to be in a kind of dream. Or nightmare. I’ve been ushered into a circus ring and now, staring down at me from a 12ft pedestal, is a lion.
A massive, 350kg apex predator. Its eyes are mesmerisingly beautiful and its mane is magnificent, but it’s his teeth and claws I’m most worried about.
He’s also drooling. I’m instructed to feed him a big hunk of meat on a stick and he slobbers like a household dog as he devours the piece.
If he lands on me or Martin the lion tamer, or decides to eat us, we are literally a lion’s lunch. I have to say — up close, I can’t really understand the appeal.
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