Berkshire, UK: Reporter Buck Tricep
Bun Pitt (not his real name) is an imposing rabbit. Half Giant Dutch, half lop, his face looks like a dropped pie, and one ear hangs lazily over the left socket where his eye used to be.
“It’s this that did me for fighting”, he says in a flat Brummie drone, pointing to the cavity; “some pikey hare with long fingers. I was so upset.”
Talking like this could easily get Bun killed. He was a member of the highly dangerous, unregulated, and illegal twilight world of “Rabbit Fight Club”, an increasingly worrying phenomenon amongst otherwise respectable male rabbits. Participants come from all walks of life: Some fight for the buzz, some because they have little else to do. Bun’s story is not unusual;
“I was doing ok; just stuck in a rut and a bit of a slave to the mortgage. I had a hundred and six leverets to support and a fairly large loan on the warren. I got by, but it didn’t do much for my self esteem.”
He frequented pub-holes where he noticed a few of the regulars sporting black eyes and injured paws; “I was worried the place was going downhill a bit”.
But it wasn’t long until he was approached by the leader of the local chapter; “He bought me a carrot juice and seemed to know just what I was thinking. All my weak spots.”
At his first fight he was made to go paw-to-paw with a wheelchair-bound three-legged guinea-pig; “We used to call him ‘Punchbag’. As he was being wheeled off to animal hospital I did feel quite.. .liberated.”,
But with this came increasing confidence; “I took on better fighters, some had all their limbs and everything. But it was never going to end well now was it?” he winks at me. (Or it may have been blinking. It’s quite hard to tell.)
We approached the local constabulary –Superintending Rabbit Inspector “Dirty” Harry Bunnigan appeared reticent; “I can’t talk about Rabbit Fight Club”.
Challenged again, he rubbed his black eye; “I still can’t talk about Rabbit Fight Club.”
Our files are in the paws of Buckinghamshire Rabbit Police Force, but we’re not sure what they’ll do with them as we did our investigation in Berkshire.
But there you are.
Bun Pitt (not his real name) is an imposing rabbit. Half Giant Dutch, half lop, his face looks like a dropped pie, and one ear hangs lazily over the left socket where his eye used to be.
“It’s this that did me for fighting”, he says in a flat Brummie drone, pointing to the cavity; “some pikey hare with long fingers. I was so upset.”
Talking like this could easily get Bun killed. He was a member of the highly dangerous, unregulated, and illegal twilight world of “Rabbit Fight Club”, an increasingly worrying phenomenon amongst otherwise respectable male rabbits. Participants come from all walks of life: Some fight for the buzz, some because they have little else to do. Bun’s story is not unusual;
“I was doing ok; just stuck in a rut and a bit of a slave to the mortgage. I had a hundred and six leverets to support and a fairly large loan on the warren. I got by, but it didn’t do much for my self esteem.”
He frequented pub-holes where he noticed a few of the regulars sporting black eyes and injured paws; “I was worried the place was going downhill a bit”.
But it wasn’t long until he was approached by the leader of the local chapter; “He bought me a carrot juice and seemed to know just what I was thinking. All my weak spots.”At his first fight he was made to go paw-to-paw with a wheelchair-bound three-legged guinea-pig; “We used to call him ‘Punchbag’. As he was being wheeled off to animal hospital I did feel quite.. .liberated.”,
But with this came increasing confidence; “I took on better fighters, some had all their limbs and everything. But it was never going to end well now was it?” he winks at me. (Or it may have been blinking. It’s quite hard to tell.)
We approached the local constabulary –Superintending Rabbit Inspector “Dirty” Harry Bunnigan appeared reticent; “I can’t talk about Rabbit Fight Club”.
Challenged again, he rubbed his black eye; “I still can’t talk about Rabbit Fight Club.”
Our files are in the paws of Buckinghamshire Rabbit Police Force, but we’re not sure what they’ll do with them as we did our investigation in Berkshire.
But there you are.
1 comment:
This is irresponsible journalism at its worst: we are solid, sir. No problems.
Any plans to level the carrotcard credit organisations' headquarters are pure speculation.
Got any soap?
Post a Comment