Name: Jeanette Winterson.
Age: 54.
Appearance: Indefatigable.
Oh great – has she written another book? Is that why we're talking about her? Is it a novel or a memoir? I love her. I hope it's a memoir. Or a novel. I really don't mind. She's amazing. She's a murderer.
What? She tweeted "Rabbit ate my parsley. I am eating the rabbit," along with a picture of the disembowelled, semi-skinned, wholly dead rabbit in question lying on her kitchen counter.
Was she the one who actually killed it? Yup. Caught it in a humane trap next to the parsley bed, then did the necessary. Or unnecessary, according to many on Twitter.
Why – do they only follow vegetarians? That's what Winterson said. She also tweeted a picture of her cat eating the entrails and noted that the remaining skin, "which includes the head makes a great glove puppet".
That seems characteristically provocative. Did it provoke? It did indeed. Some followers were not impressed.
Highlights, please. "Before I unfollow you, you make me sick. I will never again read a word you write. Rest in peace, little rabbit." (Although the tweet used more inventive punctuation).
Harsh. Another said: "How you and your cat have disappointed me! At least the cat has an excuse."
I take it Winterson fought back? She is not known for walking away from a good fight, certainly, and nor did she. She pointed out the hypocrisy of eating farmed supermarket meat then objecting to a picture of something killed by hand that involved "no waste no packaging no processing no food miles". An unrepentant tone was maintained throughout.
She should have said: "My commitment to organic and sustainable living is Written on the Body of this animal." Because she wrote a book called Written on the Body?
Yes! Or: "Oranges are Not the Only Fruit that I could braise this rabbit with." Because … yes, I see.
Or "This has become a bit of a Tanglewreck, like my first children's book was called, and my dinner is ready so I'm off." That's enough.
Do say: "Come round for ethically-and-environmentally-sound-comma-irreproachably-principled dinner."
Don't say: "Poor ickle flopsy bunnikins gone all deaded by the bad lady! Pass me my Twitchfork! That is my Twitter pitchfork, btw."
