Being a long time aficionado of the feeding patterns of eastern Chinese Panda cubs, when I caught a whiff of an exhibition on Asian Zoology in Grimsby, I was overjoyed and booked 2 (rather dear) tickets for myself and my cousin Mabel immediately. When the event came, armed with our best fascinators, not worn since Mabel’s sister’s wedding in 1947, and a day out’s worth of Werther’s Originals, we arrived at the site.
Only, to our abject horror, we were affronted with far savager beings than we had expected. The Zoologist leading our group of uncorrupted panda-seekers was not only a rather know-it-all woman, but a rather know-it-all woman wearing shorts. There they were, in God’s own England – canvas, thigh length and stinking of the devil. On a woman. As a churchwoman, Mabel could not believe her eyes, and this time it was not the cataracts. It took several gins to get her stomach settled enough for the bus home.
We will absolutely not be returning to your cesspit zoo of depravity,