1. The Wabbit and the Emergency Present

The Wabbit was stuck. He'd left it too late to get a present for Lapinette's birthday and didn't know what to do. There were only a few days left and all the shops were shut. But he had an idea that it could be something technical, so he tracked down Doctor Strangeglove to his lair. "Pleased to see you Wabbit," said Strangeglove, "I was just tuning up this engine for the electrical people." Dr. Strangeglove was in ebullient mood. Let loose on anything electrical, he was very happy. The Wabbit explained his predicament. Strangeglove smiled. "You want it to be a surprise?" The Wabbit nodded his head but looked rueful. "I should have thought of it before."  Doctor Strangeglove paced up and down, thinking. "Something technical you say?" The Wabbit nodded. "Something she hasn't got already?" added Strangeglove. The Wabbit nodded with vigour, because that was the main problem. No matter what he thought of, Lapinette had it already. The Doctor came up with an idea. "A time machine?" The Wabbit was astonished. "You could get me a time machine?" "Of course," said Strangeglove. "By Friday?" asked the Wabbit. Dr Strangeglove thought for a minute then he nodded. "I could do it for Thursday evening if I have the designs." The Wabbit was sceptical - but Lapinette did not have a time machine. That he knew. "Will it go into the future and come back?" "Anyway you like," smiled the Doctor. The Wabbit asked his penultimate question. "Will it have a seat?" "Yes," said Strangeglove, "Two seats if you want." The Wabbit wondered how much he had in his dinosaur fund. "I can build it from scrap," said the Doctor. The Wabbit had one more question. "Can you gift wrap it?" "No, I'm not that good," said Strangeglove.

The Wabbit at his Adventure Caffè

 

The Wabbit said he'd give everyone a surprise and took them to a Caffè he knew in Venice. It was very dry this year and they didn't have to wear Wellington boots - so Skratch was very pleased because he hated getting his feet wet. Lapinette and the Wabbit went ahead to order the drinks, because that was the way things worked. "Over there by the canal," said the Wabbit, "our drinks will be here in due course." Skratch was anxious to answer the question about the goings on with the letters and Wabsworth posed the question. "What on earth was that that for a sort of adventure?" Skratch was duty bound to respond. "It began as a satire about words and their meanings, but quickly changed to a discourse on the structure of words themselves." The Wabbit was disappointed. "Is that it?" Skratch meaowed a long and plaintive meow, "Certainly not. The discourse circulated around the power of the dictionary and, in essence, demonstrated that the letters had little power at all." Wabsworth grinned his android grin. "All the letters were caught in the dictionary's control of the word."  Skratch was on home territory. "And a word only has meaning as a place in a signifying chain." Lapinette laughed. "Stuck in a concatenation?" "At the station!" added the Wabbit. The rest all looked at him and groaned. "In other words it hardly mattered," said Wabsworth, "the lower cases and the upper cases are at the mercy of sound-images." The Wabbit wanted the last word. "They say the unconscious is structured like a language," Lapinette did get the last word. "Desire is therefore always left unsatisfied." "I desire my drink," said the Wabbit. Then they laughed and laughed and laughed.

7. The Wabbit inside the Word Drum

As they walked into the vast halls of Dictionary House, a door slammed behind them and things started to revolve. The gothic interior gave way to the clean lines of a washing machine and it started to fill. One by one, all the letters they'd met joined them and started to gyrate. Everything ran and colours shattered, merged and separated again. Lapinette's kilt turned into coloured arrows and swept across her face. Only the Wabbit seemed happy. He'd been twirled before, so he lay back and let the wash do its work. Capital A got very small then big again then small. The lower-case letters swam  in the exotic brew. Now they were bigger than the capitals and they seemed happy too. "What's happening?" yelled the A. "You're being decapitalised," laughed the Wabbit. The wash got more violent and everything swirled around. All of a sudden it stopped. Then it began to twirl the other way. The letters became the same size. "Give me back my kilt!" shouted Lapinette. The tartan became tartan again. Lapinette breathed a sigh of relief. Now that they were the same size, the lower-case letters smiled benevolently on Capital A. "Join us brother," they yelled, "Join us in the heady brew of language." The Capital A shrugged. "I may as well," he said. "I was getting tired of always being at the front. Perhaps I could be in the middle." Small b smiled. "Perhaps you could be at the back," he said. "That's OK," said A, "I've been rather stressed always beginning sentences." The Wabbit dried his fur by blowing on it. "Now that your all palsy-walsy, perhaps we could get out of this drum." The door swung open. The gothic halls beckoned. "So many letters, so little time," said Lapinette. "Always time for a drink," said the Wabbit. "How do you spell that," laughed Lapinette.

6. The Wabbit and Dictionary House

The Wabbit and Lapinette carried out painstaking research but found nothing. So they took with them a python list of dictionaries and went to Dictionary House. The House lay deep in the Bavarian Quarter, a little-known part of Turin. The python list was a way of finding things out but that was a far as the Wabbit could go. It was a collection of unordered values accessed by keys. They keys had to be hashable, floating point numbers, strings and tuples. When the Wabbit got to tuples he bowed out. Of course, Wabsworth would have known all about it - but the Wabbit was determined to sort the matter out himself. "You don't need that," said Lapinette. The Wabbit asked why not. "Because," replied Lapinette, "the answer isn't there." The Wabbit nodded gravely. "Of course," he said. He waited but Lapinette said nothing. "OK where is the answer?" said the Wabbit. "The answer is in common usage," said Lapinette. It was the Wabbit's turn to say nothing. He nodded as if he understood everything. "Many languages do not have capitals at all," said Lapinette. The Wabbit waited. "Arabic, Hebrew, Korean or Japanese" (The Wabbit understood all that.) "The matter is quite complex," continued Lapinette, "but the lower-case letters appear to be demanding an end to mixed text." The Wabbit shook his head. "I don't think anyone will agree to that, but I have an idea." Lapinette shrugged. "Everything will be in upper case but very small," said the Wabbit. "I've seen it done," said Lapinette, "but I don't think the Upper Cases will agree." The Wabbit thought for a while. "What about Studly Caps mixed case?" Lapinette snickered. "Like the hidden message in HoTMaiL? They might just go for it ... let's go inside and ask."
 [HoTMaiL: HTML]

5. The Wabbit and the Rumble Letters

The Wabbit and Lapinette chatted amiably to the letters and told them they would make a case for their demands. But as they passed along Via Nizza Capital A sprang out at them. He's acquired some wheels and so he'd made good speed down the redundant cycle lanes that had sprung up. He kicked the w to the side. "Oh you big bully!" yelled Lapinette. She tried pushing him but he wouldn't desist. He swept the o to the side and laid into the letter s with venom. The letter s was having none of it and he clattered the Capital A with a left jab. "You little fool, your no better than a snake," shouted Capital A. He tried to trip the s up, but only managed to stub his base on the sidewalk. The s bounced back. "Your tyranny ends here, you moron," he shouted. The s jabbed again and again. Ever watchful from the side, the letter b shouted in support. "Take that for your trouble," he screamed, "And that and that." Encouraged by Lapinette's push, the letter o came back fighting. He rolled over the Capital and ground his wheels until they were flat. The Wabbit hadn't got involved up until now. His role as peace maker seemed to be in danger so he strode into the midst. "Quieten down now, you letters." His voice as far from soothing, especially when the w accidentally hit him in the eye. The fight was becoming something more than a rumble but remained less than a donnybrook. So there was hope. Eventually the Wabbit and Lapinette managed to separate them. The Wabbit dabbed his eye. "You've have got to make an accommodation," he said, "Or you'll all be dead letters." Lapinette had her pad and pen at the ready. "I'll dash a note off to the dictionary people to see what they say." The Wabbit nodded. "Stay clear of four-letter words!" 

4. The Wabbit and the Lower Cases

The Wabbit and Lapinette strolled over to meet the lower cases and they were grumbling. The letter s addressed Lapinette directly. "What are the Capitals doing now?" It was the Wabbit who replied. "Capital A is coming to beat you up, but he's going to be some time." The other letters were waiting to cross the road and they all turned round. "We've had enough of being oppressed by the Capitals. We have the weight of numbers. We will defeat them." The letter b tapped the Wabbit on the leg. "I'm b," he said. "Pleased to meet you," said the Wabbit, "what would you like to be when you grow up?" The small letters were mortally offended. "We are all grown up and perfectly capable of making our way in the world!" Lapinette tried to smooth things over. "We only meant you were small." The letters talked amongst themselves then pushed the letter w forward. "Will you help us to draw up a list of our demands?" The Wabbit dug in his fur and took out a small notebook and a pen. "Please write it all in lower case," said the o. The Wabbit nodded gravely. "Firstly," said the w, "capitals are henceforth to come at the end of sentences." The rest piped up. "And all people names shall end in a capital and not begin it." They gathered to discuss it further. Then the s turned round. "All place names shall have no capitals at all." The Wabbit noted down all the points, then read them aloud. There was a murmur of agreement. But Lapinette had an important question. "To whom shall we take these proposals?" The Wabbit made a suggestion. "The dictionary people?" The letters went into a huddle and came up with a question. "Do dictionary people agree on things?" The Wabbit went into a huddle with himself and then came up with an answer. "Mostly," he said.

3. The Wabbit and the Indefinite Article

The Wabbit thought no more about it. But he was making his way along Via Andrea Doria when he came across an obstacle. There was Lapinette and she was staring at a giant Letter A, which was obstructing the sidewalk. "Get out of the way," she shouted and she waved her arms. "I will not," said the Latter A. "I'm getting up and standing up for my rights." Lapinette hopped from one leg to another. "Do it somewhere else!" The Wabbit watched for a little while and then he popped his head around the letter. "Hello Lapinette." Lapinette smiled and waved a greeting. "I'm trying to persuade this letter that he should locate elsewhere." The letter twitched a little. "I'm the indefinite article and I'm not necessarily a he." Lapinette placed her arms at her side and said in no uncertain terms. "I don't care. The sidewalk is for pedestrians." The Wabbit decided to get involved. "We've been getting trouble from your kind," he said. "My kind?" said the Letter, "Do you mean these other non-standard letters?" The Wabbit was lost for words. "Perhaps you're referring to the lower cases?" Now the Letter moved up and down. "We've had enough of these lower case varmints, always around our feet. We're tired of them!" The Wabbit shook his head. "Couldn't you conduct your struggle in a library or maybe even the Internet?" "No" cried the Letter A, "Were taking to the streets and soon we'll take up arms! Death to the lower cases! We shall not rest until we rid the world of them all." Lapinette was appalled. "That's not very inclusive." The Wabbit agreed. But the Letter A stood his ground. "I see some lower cases over there, I'm going to get them!" He tried to move but couldn't go fast. "Would you like a push?" smirked the Wabbit.

2. Skratch and the Way of Words

The Wabbit made his way along Via Nizza in search of Skratch when he hear a meowing behind him. He pretended not to hear and instead spoke to the poster. "I was wondering poster, why you refer to the summer? Although this is a bright day, it's Winter and yet you proclaim a different season." Skratch was beside himself. "Wabbit, Wabbit! It's me Skratch and I know all about words." The Wabbit slowly turned. "Oh it's you, Skratch. I thought that poster was speaking." Skratch climbed down from the tree. "As time passes, Wabbit, the poster becomes a sign of something else. Something long past and hard to remember." The Wabbit nodded. "True. Summer is indeed long past and very hard to remember." Skratch paused and licked his paws. "You were looking for me Wabbit?" "I was because I wanted to ask you about words," said the Wabbit, "I wondered if words could fight amongst themselves." Skratch grew interested. "What might they fight about?" The Wabbit grew pensive and replied. "Their meanings." Skratch launched into explanation. "Words have arbitrary and culturally prescribed meanings and we could assign meanings to words as we went along. As long as we agreed on the meanings all would be well." The Wabbit looked round as if someone might hear him. "Supposing the words didn't like their meanings. Supposing there was conflict." Skratch was becoming interested. "You mean if words were self-serving entities with a conscious point of view?" The Wabbit nodded his agreement. "Yes, supposing words didn't like the typeface they were set in - and supposing they went to war." Skratch laughed. "You do have a vivid imagination, Wabbit." The leaves on the sidewalk rustled in a breeze that sprung from nowhere. "Not at all," said the poster. "I should be set in Times New Roman." The Wabbit spoke sharply. "I told you there'd be trouble."

1. The Wabbit and the Meaning of Words.

The Wabbit walked along the porticos musing on anything he could muse on. He'd never given the Caffè sign a second glance. He merely knew it to be a place that sold extremely fine coffee. But today he looked up at it and thought for a minute. An acquaintance had given him to believe that the sign had an offensive word and he just couldn't understand why. Apart from the successful Italian rock band, he only knew it as a descriptive term of endearment in Spanish - and he'd argued with the acquaintance that The little black girl Caffè just didn't fit the bill. The friend had disagreed and had stalked off in high dudgeon, leaving the Wabbit bemused. The Wabbit shook his head. After all, he was a brown rabbit and proud; and he thought, "This is something I must take up with Skratch the Cat." So he bowled down the road, wondering about words. "What if words could take up arms against their oppressors and fight for their rights? What if they disagreed? The streets would be wash with warring factions all claiming authenticity. And typefaces too!" Such were his thoughts. He imagined it for a bit, seeing words in various fonts and sizes clashing at dawn. Capitals would wage war on lower case. Italics against Roman against Kanji. Upright might pit themselves against oblique. In the Wabbit's mind, vast armies drew up in opposition. Hiragana and Katakana waved banners at each other as if in a film by Akira Kurosawa. Written on their banners were the same words with different meanings. It was all quite overwhelming. The Wabbit spotted Skratch loping further down the porticos and he chased after him shouting in Ariel Bold ...

The Wabbit and the St Andrew's Caffè

The team gathered as always as the Adventure Caffè. It was an untidy looking place that the Wabbit had chosen carefully - because it was St Andrews Day, and the important thing was the Scottishness of the whisky. Nothing must detract from it. Skratch the Cat was late as usual, but he had under his arm the Guest of Honour; a bottle of Laphroaig whisky straight from the distillery. A man in a kilt had brought it directly from the plane and Skratch had picked it up. It was a peaty affair smelling faintly of diesel fuel and wellington boots. The Wabbit was well pleased. "Careful with that, Skratch," said the Wabbit, "But before we start you must tell us what sort of Adventure we just had." Skratch meaowed furiously. "The liberating qualities of the hypertext were much in evidence," he announced. "Unconscious fantasies were confronted in a manner which countered expected paradigms." Wabsworth nodded in approval. "And the self-consciousness involved allows for ritual expressions such as the Wabbit's priestly vestments." The Wabbit expressed mock horror. "I'd hardly say the kilt was a priestly vestment." But Lapinette was quite firm. "That kind of fashion utterance is a specific linguistic system signifying the world." She paused for effect. "Oh all right, if you say so," smiled the Wabbit. Skratch towered over everyone. "What does whisky signify?" "Life," said the Wabbit. "Then pour us four whiskies, let's celebrate life," said Lapinette. "I see no glasses," said Wabsworth. The Wabbit smiled and then reached into his fur ...

7. Lapinette and the Grand Finale

Lovely Lapinette opened the folder and waved it around. The audience went completely mad. She shielded her eyes from what was written inside. "It's what you've all been waiting for!" she yelled. "It's the Rabbit of the Year!" She unshielded her eyes. "It says the Rabbit of the Year is ..." Her voice was unsteady. She couldn't believe what was written there. "Lovely Lapinette?" She looked across the audience and they were ecstatic. "It looks like ... it's me," she gasped. The Wabbit grabbed her paw. The band started to play "She's a Winner," by the Golden Jazz Band. Fireworks exploded overhead. Lapinette leapt in the air. "It's me, It's me, it's me!" The Wabbit detached his paw to applaud. To the delight of the audience, Wabsworth and Skratch the Cat came on stage. They too applauded wildly. "Couldn't go to a nicer rabbit," said Skratch. Wabsworth nodded in agreement. Lapinette tried to compose herself. "But I didn't know I'd been nominated," she said. "It was apparently all a last-minute affair, but completely within the rules," said the Wabbit. "I wonder who?" smiled Lapinette. The Wabbit wasn't giving anything away. "Nominations are of course, confidential." He suppressed a smile. Lapinette pirouetted for her adoring fans. "How can I top this?" she sighed. "With a champagne reception," said the Wabbit. "There's carrot canapes and all manner of goodies backstage." The Wabbit took her by the paw once more. "You have to sign autographs, me first." "Where shall I sign?" said Lapinette. "I quite forgot my autograph book," grinned the Wabbit. "I'm sure I'll find somewhere," smirked Lapinette.

6. The Wabbit and the Big Ceremony

It was the night of the Award Ceremony and the atmosphere was electric. The audience assembled and they were rather noisy until Lapinette called for hush. Under her paw she held the results. All she had to do was open the folder and read out the contents. The Wabbit was resplendent in his kilt. Lapinette had darned the moth holes like the best invisible mender and ironed each pleat until it was immaculate. He placed his paws on his belt and rolled his tummy out. The band began to play triumphal music and a loudspeaker blared out the procedure. The Wabbit quipped to Lapinette. "This won't take too long will it? I said I'd meet Wabsworth and Skratch for a quiet game of cards." Lapinette knew the camera was cutting in - so she was safe to stamp on his foot. The Wabbit groaned. "Mind my Ghillie Brogues, they're not paid for." Lapinette grinned and turned to face the audience. "Thank you all for coming. It's going to be such a wonderful evening" She held up her folder. "I have the results here. I know you've all been waiting with bated breath." The audience cheered with vigour. The Wabbit noticed Skratch and Wabsworth and Moloch creep onto the balcony. The audience noticed them too and clapped in spontaneous applause. The band broke into a Horace Silver jazz classic, How did it Happen? The Wabbit nodded approvingly.  Then the music faded, and the audience fell silent. Lovely Lapinette lifted the folder high in the air. She brought it down slowly and began to open it. "Everyone that's getting an award is written down in here. Are you ready?" The audience screamed and yelled. Lapinette opened the folder. "And the Rabbit of the Year is ..."

5. The Wabbit and the Practice Session

Robot had been employed by Lovely Lapinette to coach the Wabbit on likely questions he would get when he appeared in the Wabbit of the Year Competition. There were a vast range to choose from and they were always tricky. "Now concentrate, Wabbit," said Robot, "think flexibly, think on your paws." The Wabbit smirked. "I usually do," he said. He did a little jig. Robot looked offended. "It's really not that kind of thinking, more like an idiot would think." The Wabbit was amused. He knew what Lapinette would say if she were here. Robot launched in. "What would you tell a child who asked you if Santa Claus was real?" The Wabbit didn't hesitate. "I'll tell him he's as real as me." Robot hooted with laughter. "That's the spirit Wabbit. Let's do another. If you had an elephant and couldn't sell it or give it away, what would you do with it." The Wabbit puts his hands on his hips. "I'd arm it to the teeth and make war on the Carthaginians." Robot scowled. "I'm not sure everyone appreciates your sense of humour Wabbit." The Wabbit was quite happy. "Perhaps I'll lose. Ask me another." Robot was beginning to feel stressed. "How many square feet of pizza are eaten in Turin each year." The Wabbit swiftly replied, "None whatsoever, they'd be measured in square meters." Robot sighed and went for an awkward question. "If you were a tree, what music would you like?" The Wabbit grinned. "That's easy. Reggae ... because I'm strictly roots." Robot knew it was time to give up. He patted the Wabbit on the shoulder. "Don't worry Wabbit, you're bound to be a hit."  The Wabbit didn't know what to think but he was cheerful. "Maybe they'll offer me a show of my own?"

4. The Wabbit and the Make Up Session

Ignoring the advice of Skratch the Cat, the Wabbit decided to go along with the Rabbit of the Year Award. It was vanity that persuaded him in the end. He thought to himself, "What if some awful rabbit got it?" That's how the Wabbit came to be experiencing a make-up session in the paws of Lovely Lapinette, and she was very much in charge. The Wabbit squirmed under the lights. Lapinette brushed on some sort of foundation, but the Wabbit wriggled and fidgeted until something unexpected happened. His face became quite a distinct shade of puce. "I'm having a reaction!" he yelled. "Stay still, Wabbit - it's all your own fault." Lapinette wasn't finished and she said so in no uncertain terms. "I look like Carlo Conti on acid," gasped the Wabbit. "It will all be all right on the night," sighed Lapinette. The Wabbit spluttered. "And what am I doing in this awful car? I should be in my jeep." Lapinette sighed again. "This is a set for Carmencita, the famous animation character, you should be pleased we got it." The Wabbit scowled, "J'aime pas les marionnettes!" "You know that's not true, Wabbit," shouted Lapinette, "now sit still!" The Wabbit settled back. Gradually his face returned to a kind of normal and he spoke. "Skratch the Cat says this is all a moneymaking exercise." Lapinette flounced. "Skratch the Cat has not been nominated for Rabbit of the Year." The Wabbit's face creased into a smile. "I'll be very pleased when we can all go back to normal." Lapinette gave a short laugh. "What kind of normal is that?" "Abnormally normal," said the Wabbit.

[TV camera by courtesy of DLPNG.com. Carlo Conti: Well-known Italian TV personality. The Carmencita Story]

3. The Wabbit and the Awards Game

The Wabbit and Moloch caught up with Skratch at the cinema. He was doing something with a sign and Wabbit waved up to him. "He's caught up a post," said Moloch, "I'll help get him down." The Wabbit shook his head and shook with mirth. "He's a cat, Moloch. He needs no help." Nevertheless Moloch jumped up and shook the post with vigour. "It's OK Moloch," said Skratch, "I'm just repairing this sign. It was incorrectly signifying the signified." Moloch was disappointed. He'd always wanted to rescue a cat from a tree. Now he'd been deprived of his opportunity. "Let me know when you're coming down," he yelled. "I'll be sure to do that," purred Skratch. "Skratch, we need your advice," said the Wabbit. Skratch paused and rested his paws for a second. "Fire away," he said. "It's rather embarrassing," said the Wabbit. "I'm the most discreet cat I know," meaowed Skratch. The Wabbit began a long explanation. "I want to support Moloch and his Monster Show. In return he'll support my nomination for Rabbit of the Year." Skratch purred long and loud. "I'm not sure you're Rabbit of the Year material," he said. The Wabbit looked relieved. "I thought you might say it was unethical." "No-one cares about that," said Skratch, "it's all fixed in advance." The Wabbit didn't know what to say. Moloch said it for him. "I heard the Monster Show was the same." Skratch agreed vociferously. "I get invited to the Cat of the Town every year - but every year I decline." The Wabbit couldn't get his head round this. "Because there's a whopping fee," said Skratch, "and the prize always goes to some Felix or other. Who's in the Monster Show?"  "Godzilla," said Moloch. "Aha," said Skratch. He jumped down from the sign and shrugged. "Then I rest my case."