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and more of a walking medical conundrum, the only two ailments which he had not suffered in his long life being tennis elbow and death.
It was said Mallett children were encouraged to feed the ducks solely ‘to see them fight’.
The charm, the flattery, the faux bonhomie – then the attempt to get what he actually wanted. Victor was as transparent as air, but nowhere near as useful.
He liked it when he got his own way, and could do a passable imitation of a pleasant person once he did.
Mrs Ponsonby was my aunt, and had an odd habit of contradicting herself in every sentence. Pippa called it ‘a demonstration of the duality of our species’. I called it ‘just plain annoying’.
the Spontaneous Anthropomorphising Event was completely unnatural and totally unprecedented. On 12 August 1965 there had been an unexpected flurry of snow on the night of a full moon following the warmest of summer days, when the sunset glowed an eerie shade of green. Aluminium foil had inexplicably tarnished within ten miles of the Event, and glass had adopted a sheen like that of mineral oil on water. The eighteen rabbits of the Event morphed and grew into a semi-humanlike shape overnight, stretched, yawned – then asked for a glass of water and a carrot, adding: ‘But really, only if it’s no
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more strident. ‘Listen here, Knox. We’ve had our differences in the past, but there is a moment in everyone’s lives where they have to step up to the plate, be counted, grit their teeth and do the right thing for the community.’ ‘And what is that thing?’ I asked, impressed he could cram five clichés into one sentence.
‘The decent humans are generally supportive of doing the right thing,’ said the Venerable Bunty, ‘but never take it much farther than that.
‘but it’ll take more than just rabbit lawyers – we need rabbit judges to see our point of view.
The way we see it, London is just one massive money-laundering scheme attached to an impressive public transport system and a few museums, of which even the most honest has more stolen goods than a lock-up garage in Worcester rented by a guy I know called Chalky.’
‘You wanted me in the colony to make cucumber sandwiches?’
I wouldn’t see him again, nor ever know what happened to him, although it was likely he faced his death with more courage than I would ever possess.
