It is a commonly accepted fact that there are only two egg-laying mammals (monotremes) in the known world; the Platypus and the Echidna. However, the recent rediscovery of a third such creature has come to light - the common rabbit.

Quite why the fact has been lost for so long was shrouded in mystery and a full and detailed research project has now painstakingly been completed. From ancient records, myths and legends the following tale has slowly unfolded.

In the early 14^th Century, in an inhospitable area of Norfolk near the coast, an eccentric but very wealthy landowner, Cedric of the Mire, decided to bestow himself with title of monarch. Studies suggest the wealth that gave Cedric his power came from the looting of wrecked foreign merchant ships that met their fate on the treacherous East Coast sandbanks. The boundaries of his large area of land were walled in and guarded and the whole region became a virtually self-sufficient principality. He assembled a court to pander to his whims and expelled any person of religion from the area for fear they would undermine his power.

Cedric had never been a popular figure and even less so as a monarch. The following extract is taken from a manuscript saved from a burning monastery after the expulsion of the local Brothers. The document appears to be part of a census and mentions Cedric thus:

"Cedric of ye Myre is a toad of a man with wispes of fayded rust hayre and a manner about hym that maikes all shudder. Very evil lays below his skyn. Nay, not even a mother could love such a slimeous mewling creature."

Despite his unpopularity, Cedric's domain remained heavily peopled. He allowed the upper classes to retain their status and wealth whilst taxing the lower orders so heavily they could not afford to pay the levy charged to those wishing to leave and had to work ceaselessly simply to survive. Benefiting from the taxation levied on the poor and being able to rely on sycophantic support from the comfortably off upper classes enabled him to remain firmly ensconced in his position. Thus he created a two-tier society, unwittingly moulding the future for Britain as we know it today.

Despite all this, ruling his kingdom was not the pleasure Cedric had anticipated. He lightened the burden of ruling with a rod of iron by indulging in an old and a new found passion. The "old" passion was eating - the "new" passion was for wenches. He fondly imagined his popularity with the fair sex was due to his magnetic personality and stunning red hair. It was, in fact, more to do with Mudgeon, a particular wrinkly old retainer and faithful follower who would quietly slip a few pieces of gold into the hand of a willing lady.

The discovery of the pleasurable company of wenches led Cedric to the discovery that rabbit eggs had the reputation of enhancing virility. It seemed natural to him then that the two pleasures should knit so well together.

Cedric indulged in rabbit eggs at every possible opportunity, eating them boiled, poached, coddled and even raw when the fancy so took him. He could well afford them and often ordered more than even he could eat. Mudgeon took care of all leftovers and pocketed the proceeds of the sales to ease the onset of his old age. This was, of course, without Cedric's knowledge as his consent would not have been forthcoming.

The eggs, usually laid in burrows in clutches of four or five, retain warmth for up to four days. The emerging creature (known as a rabbling) hatches by distending the blood vessels in its ears to such an extent they become poker stiff and crack the shell open. Once out of the shell, the rabbling's ears relax but never actually shrink back fully to the pre-hatch size.

Rabbit eggs must be eaten very fresh - the stage of development inside the shell is almost impossible to predict with accuracy. To be at their best they should be harvested and eaten within twelve hours of being laid, as simply taking from the nest does not prevent the growth of the rabbling inside.

To ensure a constant supply of fresh eggs Cedric would send out several groups of Rabblers (from which modern day "rabble" is derived) daily each dawn to seek out fresh burrows. Woe betides any rabbler who returned empty handed.

The task of finding fresh eggs became greater as Cedric's gluttony grew. The walls surrounding the domain did nothing to help travelling rabbits replenish the land stocks and with so many new eggs being taken resources were rapidly drained. The rabblers' job became more arduous and they, themselves, became the target of jibes and threats from other surfs and minions.

The rabblers devised a crafty story that was easily believed by the now godless and very superstitious society. The tale gave the impression that Cedric had received a vision which supposedly revealed only he himself was permitted to eat the eggs as befitting his position of patriarch and protector of the domain. The tale had exactly the opposite effect to that intended. Rabbit eggs became a more precious commodity. Hunting at dawn became fervent with rival groups of rabblers, working for opposing factions, engaging in all manner of underhanded and dangerous practices. The price of the eggs, on the black market, soared exorbitantly and newly created Egg Barons with an ever-growing network, became the nouveau rich.

Eventually, the dearth of eggs came to Cedric's notice. The headman of his Rabblers was summoned. Cedric listened incredulously to the reason for the lack of fresh and plentiful. He became angered and one by one three of his faithful rabblers were disposed of as a salutary lesson to anyone who would dare tell an untruth to him. As the story was again repeated he realised his simple and honest workers were relaying the truth and became more than angry - he became boilingly furious. In his fury he dismissed the remaining band of rabblers, much to their relief, and paced the length of his bedroom muttering darkly.

"Darkly, darkly" he was heard to repeat, over and over gain.

After some three hours, Mudgeon, armed with a freshly snatched egg, entered his master's room. He croaked a few soothing words and in his inimitable wrinkly old way brought calm again. He remained in the room, insinuating his way into Cedric's mind and planted the seed of an idea so cleverly that Cedric thought it to be his own. The idea was studiously carried out.

Cedric proclaimed a further vision in which he was warned that anyone other than himself eating the eggs would die a writhing and painful death. Secretly, poisoned eggs were planted by a small but highly trusted and highly paid team.

Within a few weeks, the population of the province had reduced by one hundred and twenty -seven, including one poor unfortunate who fell into a dyke and drowned whilst midnight rabbling.

The question that begs an answer is "Why did they continue to eat the eggs?" The simple reply is that the human race believes that "It was alright before so it's still alright now."That belief can be illustrated thus: The dire consequence of a motor vehicle combined with alcohol - dead, drunk.

However, the desired effect eventually took hold and rabbit eggs left the menu of all and sundry except, of course, Cedric. The plan had worked. Cedric had his kingdom's potential poachings all to himself. The last fatalities reported were those of the small but highly trusted and highly paid team of egg planters. By accident, without witness and without their last month's pay being drawn.

The next seven years saw the kingdom become a totally closed area for travel, either into or out of. Cedric was regarded in awe and his name spoken in reverence. Children grew up knowing nothing other than the reign of Cedric. Stalwarts of the BC (Before Cedric) era died out.

Myths and legends grew rapidly in the minds of the simple people. Rabbit eggs became a taboo subject. Were children to misbehave they were cautioned with the threat of "The midnight rabblers shall feed you." One of the strongest oaths, spoken only in the most dire of circumstances and followed by a symbolic shell breaking motion was "Let egg fall from the sky to your head." There has been some conjecture as to whether this oath has any link to the modern day expression of"Having egg on one's face" but at present this still has to be investigated by the linguists.

What of the world outside Cedric's kingdom?

Much had happened ... wars had been fought, lost, won and drawn. Religion had found new followers. Farming had taken a new upturn - and this is where a fate stepped in. Rabbits became recognised as a useful source of meat and clothing and were bred in captivity. Rabbits do not like captivity. Their natural instinct is to escape to freedom. Escape requires legs hence the newborn no longer hatched in eggs but entered the world fully formed even if slightly helpless.

Cedric, despite having grown in both power and girth, was no match for evolution. Even though "his" rabbits had no way to escape the walled garden of the kingdom they gradually failed to produce eggs, accepting nature's idea of live birth for their offspring instead.Eggs became rarer and rarer in Cedric's kingdom.

But back to our erstwhile anti-hero,Cedric.

Some fifteen years after the creation of his kingdom Cedric met his maker and, it would seem, by over-indulgence in and addiction to the notorious egg. He became almost fanatical and demented by the rare foodstuff, even to the exclusion of the only exercise he took,in the shape of the wenches. Mudgeon's demented scribing conjure up a painful few last moments. He wrote "the eggyes caused him to swellye up til he could no more swallowe, and then with a mytye bange did explodye and were no more seeyne agayne."

Mudgeon expired within a few days of his master's demise apparently of natural causes. Detailed analysis of surviving records show the natural causes to be the uprising that followed Cedric's departure from this world.

At this point, the records become hazy. The upper classes were overthrown, Cedric's castle and all records destroyed and the picture becomes clouded with surmise and conjecture. We do know the events of that year happened around the Spring Equinox. Christianity (hence Easter and the inexorable link with eggs) was on the incline and the populace was in dire need of a cause to follow. The encapsulating walls of the province were destroyed and the whole area became alive again with laughter.

And so our story should end here ... however ... it has recently come to light, through many hours of diligent research and painstaking study that there is still one remote area in Norfolk where nature did not intrude that rabbit eggs may still be found. Locals of the area will greet a questioner with mock derision and rebuff more probing questioners with an unnatural reticence and hostility for there still lingers apprehensions of "The accursed egg."

Ask any Norfolk local and the reply will be the same:

"Rabbit eggs ... ee must be jokin.'"

Try it ... the response hardly varies.