Why do Cadburys use an attractive female rabbit as a mascot for Cadbury's Caramel bars? (Well...I think she's attractive...)

I know sex sells, but I can honestly say, I dont know a single rabbit who would buy a Cadbury's Caramel bar.

Has the world gone mad? Are Cadburys trying to promote human-rabbit inter-breeding? Is it weird that I have a girl crush on the Cadbury's Caramel Rabbit? What is this rabbit's name? How does she maintain such a slimline figure with a diet consisting solely of Caramel? Where is she now? Why would they take her away from us?

IS THIS SOME SORT OF SICK JOKE?

I bet she's an old cynical gin-soaked wench now, bitterly watching reruns of 'Cheers' and 'Happy Days' thinking of the days when she had it all. I've said too much...

I HATE PEOPLE WHO CONTINUOUSLY SNEEZE REALLY LOUDLY! SHUT THE SHIT UP AND STAY THE SHIT AWAY FROM ME YOU GERMSPREADING IDIOT!

Why wait until you are sick?

When I took a break from playing Pokemon Diamond,  I stumbled across a hospital themed restaurant. Now this is one strange place. By the looks of things, you go for a meal in a hospital bed and are put in a straight jacket and fed blended food by some sexy Latvian nurses. The chap has a weird Fritzl-esque look about him and the other guy looks dead? Who is the guy on the left supposed to be? The hospital dictator? 

Ones food is served in test tubes and you can either opt for the hot matron or use some surgical instruments. I wonder if they wash them properly. They say a picture can tell a thousand words. in this I think only one word springs to mind... sick. What ever will they think of next?

One way to avoid the tube strike

I want a donkey. What a way to travel - by donkey. No-one else in town travels by donkey. I have seen people in Blackpool go on donkey rides but I have never been to Blackpool. I thought about getting a horse, a horse is a sexier beast than a donkey. A stallion would say 'ooh yeah!' and 'rage', but would require too much maintenance; food and grooming and everything else that I can hardly manage to do for myself let alone for 900lbs of horsey muscle. I think a donkey would more or less take care of itself; eating anything and happily going for weeks without so much as a hose-down. I could slope down the road on my donkey, Stu, slowly, no wind in my hair, painting my nails and reading the Funday Times. Then I could tie him to the wall outside the office and he could graze on fag-butts and thistle-weeds and those red rubber bands that the postmen leave. At lunch we could do a lap round Kennington park, stopping at the pub on the way back where I could pour a Guinness into a bowl for him and leave one in a glass for me.

Like birds, I don't know where you get donkeys from. The Zoo? I might have to rustle one from the city farm in Hackney. It's risky; a donkey ain't much of a getaway vehicle. Still, I can't just leave old Stu imprisoned, he needs liberating. I don't know what's happened to me, I'm no animal sucker. I'm not even a proper vegetarian. Maybe I'm sick of urban and miss good old west cork. It's the concrete and the men smashing the concrete with pneumatic drills and wrecking balls. I need to ride a donkey out to a wild orchid poppy meadow with a little bird on my shoulder... or possibly Rian. I need to lie down in the long grass by a cool glassy stream, finish the Funday Times and have a little nap with my cowboy hat over my eyes and possibly a sprig of wheat in my mouth (I wouldn't eat it though as I'm trying to cut down).