Soz ‘n like, stuff

Yeah, so, it’s been, like, really busy and stuff around here. Been down with the kids Miller and Lola, who dragged their waitress over for a play date the other week.

I have to say it’s life-affirming, or should I say chill, to hang out with the young buns once in a while. My personal physician Ian commented only yesterday that at 8,5 years old I am in pretty good nick overal, what with the head tilt business taken into consideration and all.

I put it down to keeping in touch with the next generation!

That said, I have to say today’s teenage bun is a bit forward… they sit in your food bowl uninvited. Peruse my tray, which I consider a highly personal space myself. Public canoodling is also acceptable these days, it seems.

Anyway. Sorry it has been a while. I’m still in recovery [position] after that last visit from my dear friends Lola and Miller. Look at her pretty black lop ears! Isn’t she lovely though?

Ooh, I can feel a Stevie Wonder moment coming on…


My friend Fletch

So the other week my friend Fletch finally convinced his waitress to take him for a visit. We’d been meaning to discuss the finer points of food bowl size and the benefits of lawns for some time, but he literally had to drag her over here, as it were.

I suppose bribing her with a pub lunch sealed the deal (note to self: waitresses respond well to food-based rewards).

Fletch and Bouffe meet

I had not realised Fletch is not exactly French Lop sized, what with being a Golden Retriever/Labrador cross, but then again, canine geometry is one subject I failed way back when while at the lycée technique. I felt somewhat embarrassed my rug didn’t prove big enough for the two of us.

Fletch and Bouffe nose-to-nose

Then again Fletch curls up pretty compactly because he’s considerate and kind like that and we were able to have a nice catch-up in reasonable comfort after all.

Lovely chap, is Fletch. He has to suffer the indignities of bathing at times, being being a dog he has developed an ingenious way of discouraging his staff from doing it all too frequently. Pop over to his blog to marvel at his ingenious Eau de Woof method. I think you’ll be impressed…


Escape to the country

Haas and Katrijn chiling at home

Yes, dear followers, we have had to resort to escaping the paps camped outside our mansion by eloping to the country. We have moved to an undisclosed location in the hope of getting some peace from media intrusion which had reached new lows when pictures of Katrijn sunbathing emerged in OK! Magazine.

Enough is enough.

The last three weeks have been blissfully peaceful and manic at the same time, but we’re now settling in very nicely.


So, we took the opportunity to upgrade our mansion, seeing as our status demanded we move to a posh postcode. You will have noticed that I have also had elocution lessons? Thank you. My agent told me I needed to upgrade the accent as well. I am now a Home Counties dwelling geezerbun, at your service.

Katrijn says she can now understand me most of the time, which is a blessing and a curse at the same time.

Our staff has had to make do with a bit of a hovel, a rather old and crumbly hand-me-down that doesn’t meet modern building regulations but they know who pay the bills around here so they dare not complain. We made sure Bouffe has his personal radiator and underfloor heating, we’re not fussed about the rest.

Bouffe's Corner

He says he’s very content in his new corner, in part to the proximity to the food dispenser, which staff irritatingly insist on calling the kitchen.


As before, he patrols the terrace most effectively. It does need defending from rogue sprigs and invading fire logs as you can see.


Bouffe Patrolling

As for my beloved Katrijn and me, we have no regrets about moving into our summerhouse. Lots of space to hide and scare our staff by running at them from unexpected hiding places. Very enjoyable!

Haas Katrijn Sumerhouse

We are also adjacent to the vegetable patch where our waiter will be growing our rare vintage organic peruvian purple carrots and other essentials next year. We can keep a close eye on him from here and stop him from sampling the goods.

Must dash my dears, I promised to donate a couple of pints of bunny poo tea to the Annual Harvest Feast so I had better get to it.

Katrijn…? Be a dear and find me my flat cap, I don’t know where I left it. Is it in the boot room perchance?

Poll: why does Bouffe have a headtilt?

Answers in the comments below for a chance to win a bag of Bunnington Post fertiliser!

Why does Bouffe have a headtilt? Was it:

  1. A bungineering accident
  2. A bungled Putin assassination
  3. The latest fashion, daaaahling
  4. Something else, to be precise:…


By George! The paps are busy peeps…

I have to say, Haas, I feel for that little Prince George. Not only does he have a mother who does eyeliner like it’s the 1980s (I blame her air hostess mother), he has the paparazzi affliction almost as bad as we do.

Monday 8.03am: first pap of the day

Haas and Katrijn chiling at home

Good grief, they have alarm clocks and everything…

Then we had our lunch munch spoiled by telelens:

Haas and Katrijn taking a peek

I don’t know how you can be so relaxed about it. It WINDS ME UP NO END!

That one last night really took things to a whole new level: a pap hiding in the bushes disguised as a squirrel pretending to be eating a hazelnut.

Squirrel in hazelnut tree

Yeah, don’t think I can’t see your beady little eye! Whatever next?! GM plants sprouting cameras and microphones? House sparrows rigged up with spying equipment? Eavesdropping elves?! That’s it Haas, up your sticks, we’re moving!

+++ to be continued…+++

Miller Mayday!

Dear Editors,

Please send help. I have today undergone the ultimate humuliation: waking up with the Brazilian of Shame and the discovery that an essential part of me (times two) has been surgically removed while I was snoozing. How am I ever going to get a girlfriend when I can no longer impress her?

This is me in my intact splendour, a reminder of completer times:

Miller the lop

I hereby send my membership application form for Haas and Bouffe’s Victim Support Group.


Name: Miller

Status: Shamed

Waiter/waitress: Sarah and Stuart

History: rescued August 2015; adopted August 2015; emaciated, neglected and filty

Current situation: sore, well-fed, adored, single and increasingly


That said, I have some cause to believe that I may have ended up somewhere nice. The waitstaff seems pretty well trained already, so I could be in luck this time around. Also, the facilities are most suited to the bunnington lifestyle: plenty of bunstruction opportunities, spacious, clean and secured against tumbleweeds and other native threats.

Miller the lop

I have chosen my new favourite spot already:


What are your best tips for showering my new wait staff with my indignation and disapproval without jeopardising brekkers, lunch and dinner? I await your instructions with keen anticipation.



Not fazed. Nope

I’ll take your Hoover and raise you three sticky cecotropes trod into your short shag rug and left overnight.