When I first took my toddler to the zoo, I realised that here were her celebrities. To see a giraffe in real life is the three-year-old’s equivalent of seeing Tom Hanks strolling through your local shopping centre. After all, every night we lie in bed and read stories about the exploits of shy turtles or bossy rhinos or the occasional lion who didn’t want to go to bed. Then, one day, these heroes are right in front of you, ambling about in a pen, being gawked at by the paparazzi.

All of a sudden, I felt my own childlike excitement reinvigorated, getting to surprise her with the next animal and the next animal. A visit to your local zoo is truly one of the greatest experiences you can have as a parent.

But we will not be visiting any other zoos.

Recently, in an act of masochism, my wife and I took both of our children along for a working holiday in Europe. During our first week in London, while my wife attended a conference, I had the joyful experience of taking my kids around a new city in a new country, knowing that even though they might not remember it, I would. One morning, as we discussed the itinerary for the coming days, my wife said offhandedly that, obviously, we would be taking them to the zoo. I said that I surely wouldn’t. And we were off. From such small sparks, bonfires are born.

The simple fact of the matter is there is no point visiting a zoo in another city, or another country.

Let’s start here: there are no exclusive animals. Oh, you’d like to see an elephant? We’ve got elephants at home. Better elephants, probably. Who cares? Seen one, you’ve seen them all. If, say, the London zoo could promise me that this was the only place on Earth where I’d be able to see a real-life grumpt in the flesh, then we’d have a reason to go! What’s a grumpt? When are they feeding the grumpt? This is worth the price of admission.

Don’t try to tell me that the animals at this zoo are different or special. This is not true. It is also not the point of the zoo. Never before have I heard someone return from the zoo and tell me that the ibex had a stunning personality.

Plus, we all know deep in our hearts that every zoo has a section of filler animals. Yes, every animal on this Earth is precious and dignified and potentially delicious but we can admit that in the back corner of every zoo there are a series of horned-and-hoofed creatures that are in all practicality the same animal with different hairstyles. You are already testing my patience when we get to the third South African variant of a curly horned whatever on home soil, let alone wasting precious holiday time.

Also, it is a little humiliating to see your own native animals playing an away game in a foreign zoo. When I see the wombat waddling about, it’s hard to resist the urge to whisper like I’m conspiring on a prison break. We’re going to get you out of here, brother. If I’m being entirely honest, when on holidays I do my best to avoid other Australians in general. Don’t be offended, you do it too. We don’t need to see other Australians. We’ve got them at home. So why do I need to see a kangaroo lounging about on a little pile of mulch sandwiched between an aviary and a canteen filled with suspicious meats?

I am certain there are some passionate zoo fans out there that are already flooding the comments section with incendiary remarks about how I am ignorant of the beauty of the foreign zoo and how you haven’t lived until you’ve seen an orangutan in a French zoo enjoy a pain au chocolat and a cigarette. For the record, I have visited zoos in other nations at different times in my life and yes, they were entirely fine. They were zoos. All I would say is that if you are, for example, a London resident aghast that I have snubbed your zoo, I would beg you to have a little more confidence in your city. It’s not that the zoo is bad per se, it’s that there are other things to do and, as every parent knows, the zoo is a last resort. It’s a parachute you pull deep into the school holidays when you’ve exhausted every bit of play equipment inside the air-conditioned shopping centres in your local area.

Perhaps I am speaking from a point of privilege. My local zoo happens to sit directly on Sydney Harbour with one of the most glorious views of the city possible. Maybe once you have seen it, no other zoo could possibly compare. I wouldn’t know. I only visit that zoo because the ibex has a stunning personality.

• James Colley is a comedy writer from Sydney. His debut novel, The Next Big Thing, is out now