My elderly neigbour always used to say that to me. He used to look at my pet piggies and lick his lips and tell us that they were eaten during the war. He was only kidding about wanting to eat our pets though, he caught one of our rabbits from his coalshed when its night hutch had been knocked over and ripped open by a fox and it had been attacked - he brought it back to us covered in coal dust, frightened, and bleeding, but definitely uneaten. (The rabbit was fine after a bath and some antibiotics and some tlc, although he did have a really bad scar on his nose from where the fox grabbed him - a very lucky escape for Ginger!)
It's not as if Brock makes easy prey for any animal, they have no trouble introducing humans to the quaint old country sport of 'whoops, there go my fingers', after all.
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