Our man from drip Don Pumsey at the department of retail infrastructure and pricing.
Danaher the DRIP driver has chauffered me from one disaster to the next this summer, while poor Mrs Rolfe, the cleaning lady, has been in tears as I recalled the baby baa-lambs dying in my arms at Pirbright, or sticking my fingers into dykes in Worcestershire, asking the moo-cows in Essex to say "aah", and administering Lem-Sip to the collected fowl of Diss. And on every occasion the chores of "not me, mate!" booms over the hills from the big four, the wretched ranks of Wapping cast about searching for Who's To Blame, my government colleagues go into intelligence lockdown and ever so 'umble local independents carry on flogging infected carrion like nothing had happened.
HM Acting Chief Vet is now questioning out loud whether having billions of free-range turkeys cruising the countryside is such a great idea now the H5N1 virus is raining down from the mysterious Orient like the revenge of Fu Manchu. Apparently it would have been better to keep the poor buggers cooped up inside. Clucking hell.
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|Article Type:||Brief article|
|Date:||Nov 17, 2007|
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