Storyville: Pablo's Hippos, BBC Four

It’s not so much the children of mad celebs I feel sorry for as their animals. The private zoo stuffed with exotic, non-indigenous wildlife is a sure sign of money, power and hubris run riot. The tigers and chimps at the Neverland ranch became powerful symbols of Michael Jackson’s dislocation. Similarly, last night's Storyville told how an abandoned brood of pet hippos have come to define the worst excesses of the late Colombian drug baron Pablo Escobar.

Escobar was not a conventional star, but he enjoyed all the trappings of celebrity: wealth, glamour, infamy. He was hailed as a hero at Colombian football matches and was mobbed when he visited villages to dispense his favours. When he was finally tracked down and killed in 1993, there was grief-stricken pandemonium at his funeral.

Last night’s film by Antonio Von Hildebrand and Lawrence Elman recounted the, by now, familiar story of Escobar’s rise from poverty to become the world’s seventh richest man - only this retelling came with a big fat ready-made metaphor tacked on to it. In his pomp as the head of the Medellin cocaine cartel, Escobar had wild animals shipped over from Africa to his home at Hacienda Napoles. Elephants (one called Maggie; he had a crush on Thatcher, apparently), giraffes and hippos arrived at the airport in Hercules aircraft, while Escobar's other playthings, an endless intake of Brazilian whores, were ferried in on Lear jets.

What larks were had in this alpha-male playground. There was an anti-aircraft machine gun by the swimming pool, helicopters ceaselessly hovering overhead, and legions of narcos tearing around on motorbikes and quads, sometimes handing out cigarettes to the emus.

Rather than lay down thunderous judgement on Escobar (pictured right) and his antics, the film opted instead for detached, satirical amusement. Dramatic archive footage was linked by animated segments featuring talking cartoon hippos who provided a wry external narrative. Flesh-and-blood interviewees included Escobar's sister; "Popeye", his “chief of assassins”; his “personal photographer” (who had clearly seen things no human should ever see and was rapidly trying to drink them out of reach); cops, politicians and even an ex-President. They offered colourful insight into the boggling, decade-long reign of a man who seemed very much like a real-life Scarface, had Tony Montana been dressed by BHS and played by Steve Coogan’s Tony Ferrino rather than Al Pacino.

Escobar’s former maid gamely recalled what a sweetie “Mr Pablo” was. This tubby little charmer certainly looked harmless enough, like a Fast Show caricature of a South American baddie, yet he was utterly ruthless. Beginning his "career" as one of the many “Magicians” selling drugs in 1970s Medellin, he thrived in the yawning vacuum left by state neglect, befriending and supporting the socially vulnerable.