The Wabbit and Lapinette were enveloped in darkness, then they were tumbling in the depths of the city. It was wet and carried with it the stench of generations of stuff from carts and horses to chariots. Even elephants. And a million old togas left in a corner, wet and mouldy, to wreck their reek on the Wabbits. Lapinette could see the ground coming up quickly and it was layered with poo. "This isn't the Franciacorta I was expecting!" She landed with a splat. "Or even cut-price Prosecco of dubious origin." The Wabbit was equally scathing. His paws gripped the slimy brickwork, and he pulled himself up to a hole in the wall. "That stationery cabinet, I'll kill it!" Lapinette pulled dry cleaning material from the depths of her frock and dabbed here and there. "You can't kill a stationery cabinet!" The Wabbit's 28 teeth flashed. "Watch me!" Lapinette was more interested in getting out. The hideous stench was getting to her. "What on earth did they do in Ancient Rome to keep clean?" The Wabbit gave a wry laugh. "They probably didn't bother." "The senators must have been clean," exclaimed Lapinette. "Everyone was clean and they dumped dirty stuff down here!" shouted the Wabbit, "Out of sight, out of mind." Lapinette succeeded in getting her frock clean. "Regulations?" "Hah, plenty no doubt!" exclaimed the Wabbit. He looked around. "There's a tunnel over there! Could be a way out. And there's a light." "That would brighten my day," exclaimed Lapinette.
