Exterminate, exterminate


Forgive me if my voice rises to a shriek, but See? See? The foxes are going crazy. I was down in the country when I heard the story about those poor babies in Stoke Newington getting attacked by a fox, who entered the house, walked up the stairs and attacked them in their beds. I think I might be permitted a bit of a shriek towards the end of that sentence, though, no?

See, down in the country you don’t see foxes because they live in, uh, woods and stuff. Truth to tell, I’m a bit vague on where foxes live, and that’s how it should be. They do their thing, and the country folk do theirs. What country folk don’t do any more, of course, is keep packs of foxhounds, because they don’t need them. We do! Send them up here! With a view halloo and a tally bloody ho, if you like.

It’s like Romania (stay with me, it is like Romania, honest) where they still have bears. I once went on a wildlife walking tour thing in the Carpathians where we went looking for bears and wolves (and beaver on one memorable day, though I and two or three other idiots had to stay at the back because we kept tittering every time the guide said beaver was hard to find).

But bears are a real problem in the suburbs of Bucharest because they eat scraps out of rubbish bins, get lusciously fertile with all that fat and protein, and have far more cubs than usual, all of whom survive. Thus the bear population explodes and starts attacking people. Apparently they’re helped in this because – a la Steve Irwin – people encourage their kiddies to feed the lovely snuggly bears, and then have to go to hospital to get their faces sewn back on. Durr.

Anyway, in Sarf London people either feed foxes deliberately or the animals are stuffing themselves with bin crud (mmm, Chicken Cottage). Either way, there are too many of them in too small an area. Hence the turf war that resulted in the corpse behind my shed a couple of weeks back, and two mauled babies in Stokie.

Incidentally, a codicil to the Let’s Screw with Nature and See What Happens theme. A glorious quote comes from Andrew Sullivan in the Sunday Times, who described Tony Hayward, the BP scapegoat, as wearing an expression ‘like a dog being washed’.



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