Yesterday I threw a party for my best friend Bumblethon Tripetits the Third. He is a Scottish laird and an elephant. He has a penchant for peccadillos and molests tiny voles with his snub forhead. When they are suitably shamed and embarrassed he invariably lets them go… under his frying pan feet where he splats them between his toes. He says the sensation is quite splendiferous, and insists I have a go. I decline, always, for my forhead is neither snub, nor containing a demented, inbred, noble brain. Besides, his feet don’t really have toes, I always wish I’d tell him. More like ugly lumps of bone. He is quite sensitive about those feet.