The Wabbit and Lapinette waited for Wabsworth and Skratch outside the chocolate shop. They were late and apologetic, having been held up by two young ladies trying to sell books. It happened every time they went to this shopping centre, and they were less than impressed. Wabsworth had an encyclopaedic knowledge of every book ever published. Skratch had a fine library of cinema periodicals dating back to the 1950s. "Skratch!" shouted the Wabbit. "What was that for a sort of adventure we just had?" Skratch gave a mighty hiss. "I found the characters were portrayed as egotistical and untrustworthy." Lapinette laughed. "That's because they were!" Wabsworth shook his head. "I analysed all films in my database. Characters from outer space are generally depicted as creatures who always lie. They are other and not like us." The Wabbit's face was a picture. "Looking at current affairs, I'd say that's an accurate reflection of modern politicians. They say what people want to hear, so that they can be in power." Lapinette nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid that's so." Skratch screeched loudly. "Lucky then, that we have the Department of Wabbit Affairs." He smirked and looked around. "I wouldn't trust the Department to open a bag of crisps," scowled the Wabbit. "And certainly not anything to do with your Dinosaur Fund," said Wabsworth. The Dinosaur Fund was a private account set up by the Wabbit to finance his more unorthodox missions. The Wabbit paled. "I don't think so." Lapinette grinned. "Shall we use some of it to finance today's aperitivi?" Wabsworth looked on with mock dismay. "As long as receipts are duly obtained."
