The new rabbit is turning into a bit of a slob. The other day I caught her trying to order a takeaway. I had opened the rabbit enclosure to let the two bunnies run around the kitchen and when I came back a few hours later, there were no fewer than 18 takeaway menus scattered across the floor.
They had been tucked away at the back of a shelf but Wendy Pink had pulled them all out and was sitting among them perusing, by which I mean she was very deliberately picking up a menu from the pile, setting it to one side, looking down at it for a few moments, then repeating the exercise with the next menu.
She was trying to decide between Lebanese, Cantonese, two different Chinese, three Indian, a Nepalese, seven pizza places, Japanese, and a list of Flavas fried chicken meal deals. I fancy she was about to go for the Flavas mega offer: ‘two pieces of chicken, two chicken burgers, two cheese burgers, two regular fries and four spicy wings.’ It might have been the free Haggen Daz (sic) with any order over £14.99 that clinched it for her.
(I don’t know what ‘Haggen Daz’ is, exactly, but I’m guessing it either pertains to washing powder sold at the Haggen retail grocery and pharmacy chain in Washington state, or else is something to do with ice cream.)
But I’m not going to be contemptuous of Flavas, because I did once go to this bastion of misspelt fast food where I enjoyed a terrific meal. I admit I used to be somewhat prejudiced against brightly coloured fried chicken shops advertising crazily cheap food on the basis that they were probably the lowest outlet in the food chain.
But I was desperately hungry one night as I drove back into town from the country and as I hit the bright lights of Balham I suddenly became aware of the fried chicken emporium on the corner that I had studiously ignored for ten years.
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