Off to Central to raid the food hall to purchase essential ingredients for she who must be obeyed’s ham fussilli surprise, the surprise being that it doesn’t always have ham in it.
While there we take little sister to visit the much advertised “pet show” on the ground floor. We find a stall offering an assortment of dogs with well-scrambled genes, a sad looking terrier in a 1930’s look bathing suit, and a series of cages containing distressed wild animals which those with no compassion might be inclined to keep as a “pet”.
At the end of the pathetic display there were a couple of bored looking birds.
I assumed they would be nailed to their perches, but they were free to fly anywhere. I suggested a quick circuit of the Central ladies wear section where they could crap extensively over the designer dresses while the public address system played the theme from the Dam Busters; but the response was a feeble squawk. Where are the radical birds of yesteryear?
Thoroughly underwhelmed by the “pet show”, we moved away, but then chanced upon a breakaway section dedicated to rabbits. There were rabbits is cages, rabbits in boxes and, best of all, about twenty rabbits hopping around on real grass in an enclosure.
Rabbits are great. I’ll bet even Richard Dawkins doesn’t know how evolution threw together this floppy eared, nose-twitching, bouncing disaster of an animal; but once two had evolved, they had no trouble churning out millions more; because rabbits like shagging.
The shop putting on the display was called something like “Happy Bunny”, but it should have been called “Horny Bunny”, because rarely a minute went by in the enclosure of shame (later dubbed “the porn pit”) without at least one rabbit attempting, and often succeeding, in mounting another rabbit. There was a small white bunny that was after everything. He even tried to conquer a large fluffy rabbit at least four times his size, a triumph of lust over logistics.
It was shag central and the reactions of those who came to see the cute bunnies was varied. Most of the Thais laughed and pointed. Young children were told that the bunnies were “just playing”; a phrase they could remember and use back at their parents once they reached their teenage years and were caught at it behind the sofa. There was a elderly couple on holiday from somewhere like Bournemouth, the sort who normally amuse themselves by writing letters to the Daily Mail expressing outrage. “They shouldn’t let the rabbits do this sort of thing” they whined, as if they expected some bromide to be mixed in with the feed to spare them any embarrassment.
Best of all was the fat, tattooed lout with a beer belly and a Singha vest. He loudly exclaimed to his bar girl friend “Hey look, he is doing what I was doing to you this morning!! Haha!” She gave him one off those killer looks and responded with “but I bet he didn’t need to take a little blue pill first.” They left rather quickly.
Rabbit sex is great, I am going back to watch again tomorrow.