The Golden Toddy

We hunted, swept the planet pole to pole to capture a glimpse of that rare species. Through a thermal lens we spotted a shoal, picked up the trail of nuggety faeces, then tagged the shiniest beast in the pride, mounted a camera on its gleaming horn, bolted a microphone into its hide. A first: toddies in flight, asleep, in spawn . . . After months in the field, the broken yolks had gilded and glazed the presenter's boots; the sponsor's lover wore a precious skull for a brooch, out-glinting the best boy's tooth. Rank bad form. But the creature itself shone, perched on the clapper-board, the golden one.