Wednesday, September 29, 2004


I do pursue it, you know. Actively. Mostly with rolled up newspapers, a hefty shoe or aerosols and other biological agents of mass destruction.

I am very selective in my choice of prey. And in the case of wasps, mosquitoes, Colorado beetles and ants, actually do my own killing. Mice, on the other hand, I prefer to contract out to my two cats. It is only after having tried locking them both in the conservatory overnight and their having stirred only to claw the furniture that I resort to traps.

I have no special rituals I associate with this genocide, no special clothes...underpants and T-shirt normally suffice...and nor do I take any exceptional pleasure in the act even though I have been known to let rip a, "Got you, you little bastard!" after smearing an especially elusive skeeter all over a window pane but that is by the by.

So, in short, I kill things. I remove them of that which is most precious...their lives. Sometimes it is a deliberate act...squish or be bitten or stung...and don't try and convince me that wasps are okay if you leave them alone. On that point my mind is unamenable to persuasion. Intractable. Absolutely made the fuck up. At other times it is almost accidental. I mean, I fully intended to mow the meadow (and I use that word advisedly...lawn it is not) and it was indeed me who powered up the rotor mower but face it...the body count was enormous. Grasshoppers, cicadas, buckets full of mantis and innumerable species of black beetle. Carnage, in fact. Insect armageddon.

So would you say it was hypocritical of me to be so against fox hunting? I would. In a way. But only from the point of view of one who believes all life is sacred and of equal worth. Any other justification is bull of the highest degree. Total bollocks, in fact. Hunters? Fuckwits all.

Foxes prey on farmers' livestock.
Oh, yeah? Small voles, moles and field mice have made up a large part of Britain's agricultural output for how long, did you say? Ah...chickens, you meant? Right, so the foxes have the keys to the battery farm doors then, do they? And even if they do lose one or two, isn't the farmers' lobby always telling us that they get that little money for them anyway as to make their worth almost negligible? I rather suspect here that they are more worried about loss of game birds and their having a few less grouse and the like to pump full of shot after the glorious twelfth.

Their numbers need to be controlled.
You ever seen a fox? I have. Once. But that is again, by the by. If you can show me proof that Britain would be in the grip of a plague of foxes were it not for the 'millions' killed by hounds each year, then I would agree to a cull. You could use any firearm of your choice above .22 calibre, land mines, guided fucking missiles, anything short of the nuclear option, in fact.

The hounds would have to be put down.
So? Destroy 'em.

Whole communities depend on the hunt.
Tell that to the pit villagers. I didn't see many rural action groups demonstrating on their behalf.

It's traditional, part of what makes this country great.
Bear baiting, cock fighting, pit ponies, hare coursing...traditions all.

Well, actually...we rather enjoy it to be honest. I do realise that a drag hunt would involve everything we do at present...everything but the kill that is...and I do rather feel that would somehow take all the fun out of it really.
I haven't, in all honesty, heard this argument yet but at least it would have the virtue of being accurate and truthful. There are however, a whole shed load of people whose facial features it would give me the greatest of pleasure to violently rearrange but I accept that I should have to bow to the common consensus against this and other suchwise actions.

All except one that is. What say we pin an aniseed scented, artificial fox tail on donkey Blair? And let air the cry, "Let loose the dogs of war!"

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