This just in from our Rabbit News Desk

Dearest Darling Ms. Mac,

As you may remember, I got rather drunk in Paris last week and heard voices instructing me to buy a brand new, astoundingly white and unutterably gorgeous baby rabbit. Yes, a live one, from an actual pet shop. I obeyed the voices, willingly handed over a vast sum of cold, hard cash and carefully carried my expensive new baby back home, looking a little like Madonna returning from Africa, only not as sinewy. Nor as blonde.

My daughter has christened the bunny Fluffy. I am allowed to call her Fluff though, as I am the Primary Caregiver. I don’t know what the real Fluffy Bunny will say about that!

Mr Grumpy Blackheart's face fell a mile when he walked in and saw the bundle of cuddly gorgeousness in Popo's arms. He sulked for many days, but will come round eventually. Indeed, he is taking photos of the ‘vile creature’ every five minutes to send to Popo on holiday, but his first reaction was "Who's going to look after it? What happens when we want to go on holiday? It had better not make any noise at night etc., etc."

Daughter was crestfallen, as the rabbit was supposed to be a present for Papa! Well she's all mine now. I'm going to build a proper outside hutch so she can have fresh air and grass all day during the summer. That is to say, the minute I start ham-fistedly banging together a few planks and a dollop of chicken wire, Mr Grumpy Blackheart will rush out and snatch the hammer from my feeble grasp, unable to stand by and watch a complete idiot make a hash of a simple carpentry job.

I am nothing if not cunning!

I utterly sympathise with you in your saltless plight. I too, would want to top myself, but we shall have to be practical and find some other grand dramatic gesture with which to express our misery.

Many, many unsalted quisses and much decaffeinated love,
Antipo