For those of you have been wondering since her last blog post, yes Samba is still missing, but presumably quite happy!
Someone thought they had found her in their kitchen, but it turned out to just be a gruffalo.
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How has your week been?
Here we are, standing shivering, wondering why we have been woken up before sunrise. TV cameras intruding just to please breakfast television, then the reporter has the cheek to say
‘Of course these chaps don’t feel the cold, they come from the Antarctic.’
I come from Bristol and my feet are frozen.
Yup, same with us. There they are in their Alpine designer outdoor wear talking about our fur coats keeping us warm in the Gobi desert. They don’t even keep us warm in English snow, let alone the Gobi, not that I have ever seen an actual desert.
Don’t know why they were so surprised we had a baby, we’ve known for ages, chose a name weeks ago. Now they have the cheek to announce a competition to name OUR baby.
She’s right, taking away our dignity and identity, trying to disconnect us from thousands of years of family tradition, the proud name of our clan. They have no fashion sense then laugh at our stripes. Then the ultimate insult, what name do they give us? ZEBRAS! How ridiculous a name is that.
It could be worse, what about me. Miss know-it-all reporter is telling everyone I’m going to give birth to a mammoth. I thought they had laws against offensive remarks. There is nothing more insulting you can call us than Mammoth. There is a very good reason those hairy idiots died out millennia ago.
Times and Tides of a Beachwriter 