I thought a Squab was a life form of the sea, that lived in the colder depths where it grew to great size while it pondered the meaning of darkness and the poor dear had suddenly become fashionable amongst the 'eating-out' crowd now that Swordfish and Snapper are in terrible decline.
To discover that a Squab is a nestling domestic Pigeon, that's not yet left the
care of it's parent, and can do not much better than flutter, has sent me
into a decline, awakened the certain knowledge that so long as I trudge this
earth, I'll never again open a cook book.