A very exciting mystery guest - Part I
Oh this is so exciting!!! You are not going to believe it!!!
Easter is just around the corner, so I had this idea of reviewing Easter eggs to find the best one. I thought it might be fun to have a celebrity reviewer, if I could find one.
Well, who better to review Easter eggs than the Easter bunny himself. I almost died when he agreed to do it.
Yes, it's really him. I promise. He wanted to preserve his anononymity for the sake of his private life. And obssessed pre-schoolers are a real security issue, apparently.
To preserve this historic moment, I taped the whole thing. Here is an exact transcript. I've added a bit of description here and there to make sure you get the full picture.
[snap, crackle, pop]
KJ: Welcome to A Cracking Good Egg, Mr Bunny. Thanks so much for agreeing to do this. It's so exciting to meet you.
Mr EB: No problem. [sounds of a deep hacking cough]
KJ: That's a bad cough you've got there, would you like some water? [sounds of a glass being filled]
Mr EB: Taaa, it's the fags. I quit smoking at New Year. Bet with the tooth fairy. Quitting will be the death of me.
KJ: Oh, right. Well, good luck with it. Shall we start with a bit of background. How did you get started in the Easter business?
Mr EB: Well, it's a family tradition isn't it. We've always done it. My Dad, and his Dad, his Dad before him. I dunno why exactly. Something about fertility. [Mr EB looks smugly into a nearby mirror]. Look it up on Wikipedia if you're that interested.
KJ: I'll do that. Do you enjoy the job?
Mr EB: I suppose I do. It's nice bringing joy to the kiddies. It's not like it used to be though. It's getting tougher every year. You know I'm being sued don't you?
KJ: No. [quite shocked]
Mr EB: Yeah, by the West Wagga Chicken Massive. Scraggly little b..[mumble, mumble]. Apparently, I'm infringing copyright because eggs - chocolate or otherwise - are the natural property of birds, montremes, amphibians, fish and insects. Last year I caught a whole bunch of those glorified drumsticks up on the rooftops chucking eggs down chimneys. They're in tight with Santa Claus. A whole 'nother story. I told them, it's all about the fertility. Not something that springs to the mind is it - chickens and %&;*#*@. But they don't care. They've got their beady little hearts set on fame and glory for chickenhood. After all, what popular icons have they got now.. Foghorn Leghorn. [snorts of derision]
Mr EB: [leaning forward] You wouldn't happen to have any smokes on you, by any chance? [whiskers twitching madly]
KJ: No sorry, have you tried nicotine patches.
Mr EB: Have I what? [pulls up his sleeve to reveal at least a dozen patches]
KJ: It must be a bit painful with all that fur.
Mr EB: You're telling me.
KJ: Nice tatts though. What does it say? [MR EB has a long lists of tiny words Angelina Jolie style running from his shoulder to his paw.]
Mr EB: They're my kids names in ancient Etruscan.
KJ: Oh, you speak ancient Etruscan?
Mr EB: No.
KJ: Oh. How many kids do you have?
Mr EB: Dunno. I stopped counting after fifty. My wife has litter every three months or so. I'm not a symbol of fertility for nothing. [Mr EB wobbles his head, smirks into the mirror and straightens his ears.]
KJ: I see. Are your kids involved in the family business?
Mr EB: Only my oldest, Trevour [not his real name]. I want him to take over the business eventually, but I dunno. Kids these days just don't care. I keep telling him, don't just shove a couple of eggs in a pot plant. You gotta be inventive. If the parents aren't still finding the things six months later, you're not doing the job.
KJ: Maybe he'll grow into it.
Mr EB: I doubt it. He wants to be a pop star. [eye roll....snort] Last year I gave him his own town to deliver to. I thought the responsbility would do him good. But no. I turn up to find some ancient granny up to her ears in eggs and him down behind the bike sheds smoking carrot tops. [mumble] lazy [mumble] kick in the... [mumble] won't see the light of.....[mumble, mumble].
Mr EB: [leaning forward and whispering] How about your neighbours, do they light up? [sounds of paws drumming on the arms of the chair]
KJ: No, sorry. Well, good luck with Trevour [not his real name]. I hope it all works out. Shall we take a break and then start with the egg tasting.
Mr EB: Good plan. [sound of a door slamming and paws pattering away towards the corner shop].
[snap, crackle, pop]
So there endeth Part I. Part II will be with you shortly. See you then.