Somewhat surprisingly, Hippity the Green Bunny writes:
I knew that daddy had planned a trip to Lord’s today with one of his friends from work, Uncail Marcas, so I devised a cunning plan. I’d jump into daddy’s picnic bag while he wasn’t looking and cadge a ride to HQ. I hadn’t worked out how I’d get home, but I knew I’d find a way.
Daddy was paged by Uncail Marcas soon after we arrived, so I could climb out of the bag and secrete myself out of sight while they were busy doing their meet and greet bit.
Daddy expounded about net run rates in enormous detail to Uncail Marcas, as it transpired that the whole tournament might hinge on that aspect of this game. Daddy had even brought a slide rule for Uncail Marcas to use. Typical daddy that – toss out the theories like so much confetti and then get people like Uncail Marcas to do the actual work. It sounded like bunkum to me, but people sitting around daddy and Uncail Marcas started to say “oooh” and “aaahhh” and then they all moved away, presumably to go tell their friends what was going on.
Soon daddy and Uncail Marcas got tired of all that and got hungry instead, so they started tucking into their lunch. Smoked salmon bagels, mini pork pies, cashew nuts, apples, pears, tomatoes, ham and cheese bagels, some big cookies and fine wines for good measure. Daddy was proudly telling Uncail Marcas that he had chosen some food from each nation represented today; pears from Holland, apples from South Africa and wine from New Zealand. “What about Pakistan?” asked Uncail Marcas, rather ungratefully. “Tough assignment, comestibles from Pakistan,” said daddy. “It’s possible that some of the cashews come from there, as they don’t own up to their country of origin”.
Later, while Uncail Marcas and daddy were debating the best way for Uncail Marcas to get to the railway station, I spotted my chance to jump back into the picnic bag for a ride home.
On the bumpy ride home, I was trying to work out how to get use of the computer (which I am not normally allowed) to write up this report for you, but I needn’t have worried. Daddy was drunk as a skunk and has passed out on the bed as usual.
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June 12, 2009 at 12:54 pm
thankyou.
i am having a very bad week but that made me LOL through my nose.
June 12, 2009 at 2:06 pm
Nice, but daddy needs to expand his food shopping horizons if he cannot find pakistani produce in the capital.
June 12, 2009 at 2:48 pm
Sounds like Daddy can’t take his drink either
June 12, 2009 at 9:10 pm
I wondered who wrote the “Middlesex till we die” news headlines – clearly it’s Hippity’s drunk daddy
June 13, 2009 at 6:35 am
Hmm, appealing to the ladies by having a soft toy with a childish name so as to demonstrate a pseudo feminine side, eh, Daddy?
What’s wrong with you? Pull yourself together, man. Stand up straight, shoulders back, chuck the elephant-rabbit-bear in the bin, get yourself down to the labour club (no women allowed) and have a pint of mild.
June 13, 2009 at 6:53 am
I’ve just re-read my last post, and I fear that I might have inadvertantly revealed my chauvanistic northern roots. Please accept my apologies, and rest assured that I have no issues with anyone’s “lifestyle choices”.
June 13, 2009 at 1:11 pm
Daddy likes a pint of mild, Uncail Beárd. Banks’s Mild, he reliably tells me, goes down especially nicely.
You might have a point about daddy being a bit of a wimp. But mummy is a force to be reckoned with and you don’t want to be getting on the wrong side of her by talking about throwing me in the bin.
Or about clubs that don’t allow women.
When they tried that malarky at Lord’s in the Bowler’s Bar, daddy wrote to Roger Knight soon after joining Middlesex and they changed the rules for the next season.
Daddy is my hero! Daddy is my hero!! Daddy is my hero!!!
Thank you for reading this.
June 13, 2009 at 1:28 pm
It’s clearly a rabbit.
June 13, 2009 at 4:41 pm
I think we should at least entertain the possibility that Hippity The Green Bunny is….um……a bunny rabbit.
Anything else wouldn’t make sense.
June 13, 2009 at 5:40 pm
Is Hippity cricket’s greatest bunny since Bunny Butler: http://www.cricinfo.com/westindies/content/player/51240.html? Or perhaps just since Cris Martin?
And does his green tinge mean he supported Pakistan?
June 13, 2009 at 7:02 pm
how come this stuffed animal doth noth strike fear into thine craven breast?
(what the fuck am I doing…)
June 14, 2009 at 12:19 am
I think I may be a day late – don’t you and the Queen share a birthday?
http://tinyurl.com/happy-regal-birthday
June 14, 2009 at 10:03 am
It’s got the arms and legs of a bear, no doubt about it. I’ll concede that there’s not much elephant in there.
Actually, the more I look at it, the more I am convinced that the ears are King Charles Spaniel, not rabbit. Rabbit ears aren’t floppy like that.
Hippity the GM bear-dog.
June 14, 2009 at 10:31 am
I believe Hippity is a lop-eared rabbit, Bert, not the more common kind.
This next link has a real “aahhhhhhh” factor for a Sunday morning…….
http://images.google.co.uk/images?sourceid=navclient&hl=en-GB&rlz=1T4SNYK_en-GBGB310GB310&q=lop-eared+rabbits&um=1&ie=UTF-8&ei=98M0SoLbF9mNjAf0zuGJCg&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&resnum=1&ct=title
………………as long as you like rabbits.
If there is anyone out there who doesn’t like rabbits, I have a rather gory picture of a roadkill rabbit (1979, Mauritius), which I subsequently helped to consume. Links to that picture by request only. Don’t tell Hippity.
June 14, 2009 at 5:53 pm
Ceci, that is the finest birthday gift a man could receive.
Thank you.