I was born a free man, in the rolling hills of Scotland. I lived a normal life until one day, on a family picnic at the local loch, my parents got so cunted on Special Brew that they forgot I existed and they left me behind. A friendly beaver family took pity on me and raised me as their own.

My Beaver family treated me well.  They brought me fresh fish when I was hungry (though they ignored all my requests for chips and tomato sauce), changed my nappy when I made a  little brown "fish" of my own, and taught me the honourable ways of the beaver.

Soon I was almost indistinguishable from the rest of my beaver clan as I swam in the Loch that I now called my home.

But all too soon, I began to feel the call of civilisation.  There were strange structures on the opposite side of the Loch, not like the pile of sticks I called my home.  Strange exotic smells would waft over the water, even after I had just changed my nappy.  I knew then I had to leave my Beaver pals and seek life amongst my own kind.

My brethren were, as ever, all too keen to help.  Within half an hour they had fashioned me a raft out of logs, put me on it and pushed me out into the water.  I sometimes wondered if they were fed up with me eating all the fish, standing on their tails, my fishy flatulence  and sleeping all day, but this final act of kindness showed me they cared.

I made my way to what I now know was the local indian/chinese/greek takeaway.  I staggered in and in a strange feat of linguistics, my first ever words stumbled from my lips:
"Extra large Doner and double chips, beef madras and rice and chips plus some sweet and sour chicken balls with egg fried rice and chips please.  Oh, and a large diet coke....  And chips."
I had no concept of money, so I jumped up on the counter and ate the lot there and then, biting anyone who came near me - as is the ancient way of the beaver.  At last, I was back to civilisation :)

I Recently went back to my beaver home to see if my pals were still around, but they  have become extinct in these parts.  In fact there was a sign saying "Go home Bruce, we are now extinct in these parts", so it must be true.  I am a more responsible drinker than my parents.  When my wife and I go out on a drinking picnic, we give our daughter a compass and some Kendall mint-cake - thus making sure she is never adopted by beavers.  So-long my beaver pals;  and thanks for all the fish.