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Friday, June 19, 2009
Diners at a Hampshire restaurant became so fond of a duck that lived in the garden, they have shot it, cooked it, and eaten it.
Ironically named Crispie, the duck was a regular attraction at The Mill in Lymington until a customer who was told they had run out of regular ducks took out his pistol, blew the creature's brains out and handed the waitress its carcass. "Fucking cook this cunt then," he is understood to have said.
Other guests immediately fell upon the corpse and ripped free their portion, with some demanding it was turned into a nice seared breast steak with a jus d'orange, some wanting it as Chinese pancakes and others wolfing it down raw.
Even the children who had previously delighted in the duck's playful antics were seen scurrying off with slivers of raw duck meat and ripping them apart like feral rats.
The Mill's owner Liz Cottingham said: "What can I say? People in this country love animals, so it was no surprise he became popular. But then, they like eating them even more. Who is going to choose looking at the bastard, when you could be eating it cooked rare with a delicious red wine sauce and a side serving of dauphinoise potatoes?"
Arnold Flemborn, a Professor of Anthropology at Cambridge University, concurred with Mrs Cottingham. "People in this country always go on about how much they love animals, right up until dinnertime. Then all bets are off, as we enter a carnival of killing and greed. That cute spring lamb you were cooing over this morning? Dead and on your plate. The sweet calf you fed at the farm? Dead and in the oven."
Raising a meat cleaver over a squealing piglet, Professor Flemborn ended his analysis on a positive note. "But look on the bright side. I'm having bacon for breakfast, sausages for lunch, and pork chops for tea. Thank you very much Babe."