Pumpie, was an elephant of some impressive note. He a fought wars against Napoleon, trekked across the Sahara, climbed to the heights of the highest mountains, albeit in the children’s bedrooms of his loving family.
Pumpie knew he was valued. He knew that he was loved, as he was passed down from father to daughter, from mother to son and gratefully received. Every battle wound had been lovingly stitched. Every mark had been solemnly honoured. Yes, Pumpie was indeed an elephant of impressive note.
Until the Germans came. With their mass produced bears, with their mass produced eyes, their flawless fur, and sterile smell.
For the first time ever Pumpie was rejected. For the first time ever Pumpie was insulted. “He is old, Mummy.” “He is dirty, Mummy.” “I don’t want him, Mummy.” And so, for the first time ever Pumpie was placed on the shelf.
Pumpie was not an elephant to take such rejection lying down. At night, Pumpie would leave his post from the high, high shelf and fart on the head of both the offending bear and the beastly child.
Yes, Pumpie was indeed an elephant of impressive note.