I think about the kakapo almost daily. I can’t fucking stand the thing, but its squishy green body and black eyes haunt my dreams, my dreams of getting older and wondering what life will be like for me, me, a kakapo, a flightless bird sat squat inside the face of a cliff, calling, calling, calling.

The male kakapo attracts a mate by walking miles away from a kakapo population centre to a precipice, high and jagged, with a nice view. He builds a nest, something with attractive features like an ensuite or some bits of blue plastic. He then calls for the far away female, with a loud, deeply unappealing ‘BOOM’ sound that echoes so furiously throughout the cavernous surrounds, he becomes near impossible to locate.