"The bulls would be furious!” isn’t the sort of statement one would expect from an eight-year old girl, riding up a chairlift above the ski slopes of a Swiss alpine resort in mid winter. At this time of the year, all bovines have long been escorted down the mountain by tanned, six-packed hotties in tight tee-shirts and faded denim. They’ve been washed, brushed, their bells removed and polished, and are tucked up cozily in their sheds, mooing contentedly, lazily chomping on Edelweiss-laced hay fed to them by buxom, rosy-cheeked blondes skipping around in time to merry accordion music playing in the background.