We are driving to the zoo and Mr Crackers is very talkative, and asking me all sorts of questions about cotton wool and how it is made. I know stuff all about cotton wool, having failed my cotton wool exams when I was at school, and so I am having to extemporise. That means that I am having to make it all up, which is difficult for me as normally everything that comes out of my mouth is actual real life facts and not deluded imaginings. Oh yes, I am a very serious person, just ask Carlos Trumpet. Carlos Trumpet is a tiny elf who lives in my pocket - not the one with the keys in, the other pocket, obviously. Carlos is imaginary, of course, but nevertheless he will swear on oath that he is the only thing I have ever made up, and everything else is the honest truth, cor blimey.
So I started to tell Mr Crackers that raw cotton wool comes from mines deep underground. Some of the deepest mines in the world in fact - down down down, past the coal and the salt and the copper and all the dinosaur bones and stuff. However, even though the mines are very deep, they are also really safe because if ever anyone falls down a shaft, they will always have something soft to land on. That said, I told him, most cotton wool these days was actually recycled from the fluff in people's pockets. This is much more environmentally friendly than mines, because with pockets you don't have to sink the shafts so deep.
Mr Crackers nodded and accepted my explanation without question. I think he is probably an idiot.