Why I prefer cows to humans

Gstaad

  The cows are coming down, the cows are coming down, and I’m off to the Bagel. My Swiss neighbours have cut, raked and baled the grass that the sweet four-legged ones with bells around their necks will be eating all winter while indoors. They will parade through the town next week, and it will certainly be an improvement after the kind of tourists we’ve been getting of late. Give me four-legged beings any old day — and I really mean that. I’ll give you a brief example. Last week, when I was in the Gstaad local bank, a couple came in and went to the teller next to mine. As I had to wait for something complicated (gone are the days when one could send moolah with a simple name and address), I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation. The man was tall and blond, the woman was from somewhere in the Gulf and much younger. They enquired about the amount that can be deposited for a 12-year-old student at the Rosey school to draw on. The teller, whom I know, smiled and asked the couple how much they had in mind. ‘Well, not a million or two,’ answered the man. That’s fine, said the teller, still smiling. But how much? Seven to eight hundred, came the answer. That should do, said the teller. Then came the bombshell: ‘Seven to eight hundred thousand.’ The teller gasped but said nothing. ‘Is it illegal?’ asked the father. ‘No, no, but you said the child is 12.’ I looked at them and they seemed normal enough, but how normal is it to give that kind of dough to a 12-year-old to play with? See what I mean about preferring four-legged creatures to humans? Exclusivity has always been the ethos of the very rich, but today’s rich bums are out of control.