Regular readers of this influential, widely-read and award winning blog will no doubt remember the arrival of a rabbit into the domestic bliss of family life.
I must make clear that the rabbit entered our lives without any consultation or any agreement from me. For further clarification, this blog can be defined as widely read because at least one person in Romania and possibly three people in Bulgaria clicked on a recent opinion regarding the moral bankruptcy of UKIP. The award is based on a survey of about a dozen 14-year-olds undertaken by UKTV Gold who were asked the following question:
“Which anonymous blog written by someone pretending to be a polypropylene river horse from Botswana is least likely to have any influence on Michael Gove`s vision for a return to medieval education?” I would like to thank all the little people and, above all, God for this marvellous honour.
The rabbit, after about three days of looking cute, went through a rampant and deranged adolescence and emerged from the cocoon of fluffy bunnydom as a violent sexual predator. After just a year, he is the size of an obese South American Capybara and seems to have inherited the moral compass of the late Oliver Reed. He will attempt to eat anything to satisfy his vile appetite including shoes, wallpaper, homework, electrical cable, important almost completed reports and tax returns. Only after considerable destruction has been wrought, does this vandal realise that the stuff is not nutritious and turns to the expensive rabbit food pellets that remain the same size and shape from entry into the digestive system to a rapid and frequent exit from it. In addition, he gets through a bunch of spring greens and a couple of pounds of carrots every day. This rabbit has the body mass index of Florida.
But worse, oh so much worse, is this wretched creature`s libido. Anything that moves is fair prey to this Leporidae Lothario and even inanimate objects are not safe from unwanted advances. I had thought that the two resident cats would have torn this usurper to pieces within days but the two neutered toms seem to enjoy the attention from the impertinently curious rabbit which, in other circumstances, would surely result in outraged letters to the Daily Mail and a number of burst blood vessels on the Tory back benches. Perhaps Norman Tebbit would like to marry the rabbit as a tax dodge.
The insistent and shrill teenage daughter who demanded that the beast be bought has now, understandable, grown cooler in her affection. Reminiscent of Margo in “The Good Life”, she dons wellies, marigolds, a kagool and a balaclava when forced to clean out the hutch. The expression of utter disgust is priceless. After another long day of absorbing the very best that academe can offer, she lobs a carrot at the rabbit, says: “Oooo, `ave `oo `ad a nice time wiv granddad?” and then retreats to an evening of texting and Facebook. The rabbit and I glare at each other through the kitchen window and I realise that my main remaining ambition in life is to outlive the bloody thing.
For all his unpleasant idiosyncrasies, Wagner still wrote some good tunes. Lately, as the evenings draw out and the weather is growing warmer, I have taken to the garden shed as a retreat from the rabbit. There, I read and listen to music on an old battery powered cassette player until the light fades. For some unknown reason, Wagner has become the cassette of choice and thoughts turn to the genius of Chuck Jones.
Here is six minutes 33 seconds of his finest work: