[The second half of that title is such an AWFUL pun, but I have decided to leave it standing as when it popped into my head it was merely a very bad play on Kundera. Now it's a bad play AND a pun, which should be cause for being poked with a sharp stick. At least twice.]

You'll forgive me the superlatives and the over-use of the word 'cute' when you see them. When your heart is in your hands, and you could fold it up and put it in your pocket because of their black and white lovelieness, I promise you'll say all the over-writing and the gushing were justified. Or if not justified, then at least understandable.

Because, look here, how could you not?

More pictures and gushing inside, if you can take it ...

This is the deal: we went to visit the Giant Panda Breeding Base in Chengdu this morning. It was several hours of panda extravagence (Jesus, what IS it with this topic and puns? - I only just spared you all the phrase 'panda-monium'), or 'panda adventure' as our entry tickets billed it.

It was out and out incredible. I am not a zoo person, nor do I ever wish to go on safari. I don't like animal parks at all.

But pandas - my God, those pandas! - the panda-ness of it all was SPECTACULAR.

It turns out that Giant Pandas are wonderfully somnambulent bunches of fur, feet and tummy. With their faces utterly dominated by huge, coal-soaked eyes, and their heads topped off by two perfect round ears, each is cuter than a cartoon. Seeing them at such close range made our return trip to China worthwhile in the very instant.

Upon close inspection, I can report that they appear to have two modes:

1. noisy stripping and crunching of bamboo stalks (preferably while resting up against a tree, legs splayed ungainly and belly rising wide and portly without embarrassment); and
2. sleeping in postures of unabashed exhaustion.

All other activities are secondary.

For the panda, sleeping is conducted with the kind of reckless intensity seen only in drunks and infants. As passionate and deep as a prayer, a foot is thrown out, nubbly pads open to the air, body motionless as a mountain. Sleep is goo-ood, so very, very good.

Then there were the smaller 'red pandas’, which were phenomenally cat-like. Some snoozed nestled in tree branches like blissed-out kitties. Their more awake counterparts cavorted in the long grass, nibbling and pawing as flirtatious as house-cats.

Over by the red pandas' enclosure, there was an incredibly grating Chinese tourist. She screamed repeatedly at the pandas, rocking her head from side to side and clapping her hands in rapid-fire stacatto as she crooned at them. Every fourth word or so, she yelled 'BABY!', and then, rising in intensity like a crazed yodeller, ‘BAAAAYBEEEE!BAAAAYBEEE!BAAAAAYBEEEE!'

Of course, she turned out to be none other than the red pandas' keeper. Ah, China ...

The woman's cries (combined with her excitement over the two cherubic blonde toddlers in our group, and her loud salespitch to convince us each to pick up a red panda and pay 50 yuan to have a picture snapped) meant that the whole experience was like a struggle to commune with nature next to zoo-keeper suffering from Tourettes.

Everywhere there were other curious reminders that this we are, most definitely, in China. Individual pandas are sponsored by cigarette factories, and their enclosures have some very strange facilities, such as a rusted-out swing and slide set.

Most importantly, though, after visiting the gorgeous animals themselves, we were treated to an awesome video in Chinglish about the ‘amorous feelings of the panda’.

Oh. My. Lord. Quite frankly, seeing graphic footage of male pandas with gigantic erections frotting up against any surface they can find was a little more than I had bargained for at 8 am. This sight was expunged from my mind only by the footage of the females giving birth: in glorious technicolour, miniscule, eyeless pandas that look like squidgy wet bath-toys are squeezed out by Mama Bear at top speed. The tiny pink tot shoots up and out of her panda vagina with force before sliding across the floor like a ferocious zit being popped without warning.

Displayed on a 6 foot high screen, this is somewhat alarming.

But don’t let this stuff fool you: these animals are natural-born charmers. Every single member of our little group was cowed by the magnificence of their appeal. Right there next to them, any one of us would have lain in front of a bulldozer if it would have helped a single panda. I notice the panda-magic has some flow-on effects: normally staid middle-aged men started sidling up to the tiny baby in our group and cooing at her precious face. It’s THAT degree of infectious, unstoppable cuteness that these beleaguered animals remarkably possess.

Sadly, there are fewer than 1,000 Giant Pandas now left in the wild. This fact is heart-in-mouth scary.