“Oh, my Darling, it’s really quite simple. The best possible remedy for these ghastly reality programs is to produce an episode wherein each of the Kardashian females is placed in a kayak and forced to paddle her way in a race against the others around the Farallon Islands. In October, mind you. That’s when the sharks are said to be hungriest, or so I am informed by several sources of the most unimpeachable character. All God’s creatures must dine and I daresay even a Great White would not soon turn its nose up at the prospect of several greasy and otherwise useless mammals streaking across the surface of the briny. Don’t you agree? Or you could put them in those inflatable tubes and send them bobbing about the waves off Honolulu. The Tiger Sharks find those waters rather favorable. Did you know that they call the Tiger Shark ‘the garbage-can of the ocean,’ my dear? Most appropriate for our present purposes, surely. Oh, it would make for exceptional television, that much is certain. Moreover, if one of those insufferable doxies managed to survive the gauntlet, why, I suppose she could be left on an island for days without food or water. Perhaps the cameras would even catch her being pecked to death by seagulls or puffins or canaries or whatever manner of famished birdlife inhabits such corners of the world. Who knows? It’s all so delightful to ponder. The Americans would do well to take a tip from me in this matter. Now, be a dear and ring Carson for a spot of tea and some of Mrs. Patmore’s lovely pudding. All this talk of suet has left me a bit peckish. Imagine that.”

Oh, dear! Looks like Pimp Mama Kris’s kayak has run into a bit of trouble off the Farallons.