A message to us from the Wombles 

Dear Sir, — We Wombles are getting very worried about you people and your insistence on interfering with our genetics. I have been asked by the Greater Womble Council to put you all straight on a few points in the hope that you will sod off and leave us alone.
1. We are a product of asexual reproduction meaning that we have no need to co-mingle (our word for what you lot do) in order to produce baby Wombles. It all happens in our own systems and whether we call ourself uncle or aunty, madam or monsieur we satisfy ourselves, (a habit that a lot of you are prone to judging by what we read in the newspapers).
2. It may have escaped your notice but we are totally different to any other earthly species and the only one to actually care about the environment. The fact that you are a disgustingly careless set of creatures is actually great news for us because it gives us a purpose in life, clearing up all the crap that you leave lying about. Unfortunately there are not enough of us to compete with you lot because, back to the science, we only reproduce once every 30 years. But keep doing what you are doing and we will be very happy.
3. We don’t really like you, you are so up yourselves, so are we, but we are designed for it.
4. We don’t care if you make us all different shades of skin because we can present ourselves however we want. Colour me pink and I’ll be blue within seconds. We share a few genes with octopoids and cuttlefish way back in the past. For those interested our front torso is pinkish, our rear torso is black, our legs are yellow and our arms are olive, we can shuffle them according to mood and during reproduction we mix them all together and croon during gestation, which takes three and a half years.
5. We eat absolutely anything, except McDonalds products, pity really as there are so many of them left lying about.
There are lots more that you don’t know about us and that we don’t need you to know. Rest assured that you will never catch one of us, we can guarantee that. — Yours in annoyance,

GRAND DUKE MICKELMASS.