Cock: Not Just for Breakfast Anymore

As many a Junior Miss contestant and radio advertisement for car insurance has reminded us over the years, it was Shakespeare who famously asked "what is in a name?" Old Ken asks "what is in a bottle that says 'Cock' on the label and costs 69p?" In the latter case at least, the answer seems to be anchovies, salt and sugar—ingredients of "supreme quality," so the bottle reassuringly informs us.



But, would a cock of another name taste so sweet, er, so to speak? This is a question being asked across the capitals of Europe—from Brussels to Bucharest the chorus rings out—as concerns for the scourge of avian flu loom large across Europe. That is, the prospect of entirely synthetic, anchovy-based cock is being bandied about, as bureaucrats and health officials scramble to find alternate ways of "delivering the goods" in a safe, drinkable form. Yet, even within the domestic confines of one experimental philosopher in southeast London, such questions are being raised by the appearance of a strange being.



Mike Reno of Loverboy once asserted that he was "not man or machine, just somethin' in between." And I wonder if this newly-arrived specimen might want to make a similar claim. Well, in the amended version, it might be something more like "I'm not a wig or a hen, but I'm something like both of them." Where did you come from? And what should I call you? Perhaps playing on the French term for wig we could call him the "perruquester"? Alas, recalling a certain cooking experiment that went afowl (sorry, it was inevitable) of the laws of all that is holy, I wonder if we should call him "son of cock ale"? Well, that doesn't quite get at the wig component.

So, the competition is officially now opened: name this wig-and-cock jackalope and win the bottle of Cock. (Second place winners will receive two bottles of Cock.)