It's 'fessing up time - I'm one of the antis (From Gazette & Herald)

It's 'fessing up time - I'm one of the antis

SINCE I got this 'gig' in the Gazette & Herald, my close associates have been asking me when I was going to write a column about my guilty secret.

"I'm biding my time," I replied. "I don't want to scare my beloved readers away - we need to build up a bit of a rapport first... then I can go for the throat, so to speak."

So with a fluttering heart, I remind you that once again the Government has brought a future hunting ban to our attention. And (I can already hear this column crackling away on the open, log fire in disgust) I thoroughly agree with them.

See, that wasn't so scary, was it? (Please don't track me down with shotguns and torches - I'm only young... my opinions are probably unsubstantiated and invalid.)

I've always been a bit of an irritation to Ryedale in this respect (not that I'm implying that all Rydalians are fox hunters, though I do believe that we have a higher than average rate).

At the tender age of 11, I made my Gazette & Herald debut in an angry piece to the editor about all those 'ickle foxes being savaged by the meanie dogs and their red-coated, cigar-smoking masters.

Then there were the letters to the MP, the Prime Minister and the Queen. ("The Queen appreciates your comments, little girl, but wishes you to know that if you keep complaining about her favourite pastime with your whiney, Guardian-reader, spoon-fed-from-your-parents opinions, she will set her corgis on you.")

I'd like to think that now, with a few extra years practise, my argument against fox hunting has become more refined.

Though, I'm sure if you look hard enough, you'd be able to come up with clever comebacks that would make it obvious to any sane person that chasing animals around a field for fun with a pack of dogs could be advantageous. But I'll give it my best shot.

To live in an ordered and safe world, killing is a necessity - we kill to eat, we kill to protect, and we kill to save our chickens.

But, as far as I'm aware, the slaughter man who puts my ham sandwich to sleep doesn't invite the family to watch, stand with his stun gun at the ready and murderously laugh while he takes the life of a creature.

I'm not suggesting that fox hunters rub their hands in 'Dr Evil'-style glee as another fox is torn apart, but the fact that anyone can derive pleasure from the killing of a living creature is abhorrent to me.

It always broke my heart to see horrible little boys in primary school pulling limbs off a daddy long legs (the head always came off last, so the bug could watch his own mutation).

To me, fox hunting as a 'sport' is no different, except it is done by those who are far too old for a sick glee at something else's demise.

I have no answers - I don't have alternatives, and perhaps my opinions can be put down to the budding socialist within me.

So smoulder this in your Agas, but not before you think of a decent excuse for the enjoyment of killing.

Updated: 11:46 Wednesday, April 28, 2004