They’ll put the fox in the box and send the parcel to Marseille (it works if you don’t think about it too hard. Not unlike the bulk of my oeuvre). Pack the guns away and for the rest of the day simply play. The upper classes need glasses if they think that tearing mostly harmless animals to bits isn’t the total pits.
Fine, maybe I was never completely cut out for rhyming but my basic point still stands. As a country we need to be moving forward. The days when it was socially acceptable to ride around the fields chasing dogs that will rip wildlife limb from limb for the savage joy of the kill are over. Why on earth is it so important that we go back?
They’re not even doing it for meat. It’s safe to say that a scrawny fox between forty or so aristocrats isn’t exactly a feast but if they were hunting to eat then that would be something. A very small something indeed but a motive aside from mere bloodlust. Perhaps I don’t know the ways of a toff on horseback but if that’s the view you want to take, allow me to assure you that I’m very happy in my plebeian mind set. Positively delirious with joy.
Is it merely to appease the right winged nuts that make up a worrying majority of his party? I’m sort of hoping that it’s a grim distraction technique devised to draw our attention away from something even more ghastly. If that was the case then a small consolation would be that the prime minister isn’t serious in this endeavour. At this rate we’re never going to free ourselves from antiquated notions like, well, my usual example of the monarchy.
Don’t worry though, corporate England is on the case. By greasing palms and calling in favours they’ll make sure that the new hunting legislation will never see the light of day. For a price. One I’m not sure I can disclose here but just take this moment to fear for our very souls.