Heckler

After breakfast we wandered around the habitat, which had a great array of animals for a small park, though inevitably this doesn't give them much space to roam.

The good thing about being at a zoo so early in the morning is that you're bang on time for all of the zoo keeper talks and displays; you don't turn up five minutes after it's finished thinking "bugger".

And so it was that we met Duncan, who couldn't look or sound more Australian unless he grew a handlebar moustache, and in true aussie style, every other nationality became the butt of his jokes, especially the British.

"Whoah what a mistake!" he cried out when he heard where I came from. "Boy you guys really screwed up when you sent the convicts down here and kept that miserable old place to yourselves"

"Do you know, I've never heard that joke before" I replied, which didn't stop him continuing in the same vein.

"And then you taught us how to play cricket and now we beat the arse off you every four years"

"Except in 2005" piped up another Brit from the back of the crowd.

"Well, okay yeah, we let you have the ashes for a while but they're back where they belong now alright, back in Australia"

"Not strictly true". I couldn't help myself now. "They're in the museum at Lords, I believe. You know, where they belong"

"Ah well, I wouldn't thank you for Britain, it doesn't interest me. I spent two months there and put on 20 pounds with all your stodgy food and warm beer. Boy was I glad to get away, I'm not jealous of the British, I can tell you".

And then he came over and hugged me so tight I could barely breathe. Even so, he'd gone too far now.

"Well mate, you know how it is" I said, "you're all British deep down inside. As long as you've got the Queen on your money you're British when it really counts".

He took off his hat and held it to his stomach, shaking his head.

"Fair play lady" he said "you give as good as you get".