Well. Doctor Bandy Coot can flap those big leather ears until the vacas come home to roost, but the question is really a fairly simple one. Which do you choose to believe - my obviously correct, word-for-word faithful, translation, or the marsupial whose propensity for crying Wolof has been exhaustively documented these past few days?
While it is seemingly beyond the scope of this noble webpoint to enguard against sundry mendacious Corkacious fallaciousnesses, bear with me (and we know that bears stalk our very ground) whilst I highlight this juicy-fruity-saliency:
Would you trust an informant who launches his post-career videonometry on the haunches of an exploited plastic Gentoo, turning choco-tricks for blog flicks?