Wednesday, 10 May 2017

I Am a Fox

I am a fox. It doesn’t matter what my name is because essentially I am just a giant ginger rat with a great PR team behind me. Allow me to explain.

Years ago, people used to see my kind as part of the ecosystem and turn a blind eye to us, except when we attacked chicken coups, livestock or pets. They would then set packs of hounds on us and these dogs would catch the slowest among us and tear them to pieces. It looked awful (and was pretty horrible for the fox) but then again it tended to be the old, slow, injured foxes who got caught as they were the ones targeting the farms. Oddly, when this happened, groups of men dressed in red would ride on horses and blow trumpets (which was a bit of a giveaway that the hounds were on their way). This practice kept us on our toes and separated the wheat from the chaff as, after all, we don't really have any natural predictors anymore.

Then some time ago a new group of people took charge of the country, many of whom hated the men in red as they were rich and upper class (don’t know what this means but I looked it up in my fox dictionary and it says that they take more tax revenues from them). Anyway, they decided to stop the hounds from hunting us, which didn’t stop the men in red gathering but it did mean more of the older and slower foxes started to live for longer. I thought that they would have done things the other way around, but what do I know? We also found that the expansion of suburban housing developments into the countryside meant that more of our kind ventured into the cities, where people who had never seen animals started to make strange noises when they saw us and put food and drink out at night. We’ve never known such luck! Foxes have now expanded their families all over the towns and cities of this country and we can pretty much do what we like, spreading disease, causing damage – wahay, it’s a great laugh! Of course, we still kill chickens and people’s pets, plus we forage in bins and kitchens, but that’s fair enough, right?

Now, a little bird tells me that a woman wants to bring back the hounds and lot’s of her enemies are angry. It’s also annoyed many of the people in cities who make the strange noises. They think we look lovely and don’t want dogs chasing us. You know, tons and cities are strange places; when I’ve been stalking the roads, I’ve seen all sorts of things happen, dog fighting, pest control and even an awful thing called halal meat, but we can’t talk about that as it upsets some people. The people who make strange noises don’t care about those other animals because they don’t have the same PR company behind them. Even in the countryside I’ve seen groups of people they called travelers (they live in houses with wheels on and talk in a funny way) arrange cock fighting and hare coursing, but again nobody cares about that because of a thing called class warfare (also don’t know what that means so I looked it up and there was something called inverted snobbery so I gave up reading).

Anyway, it all keeps me amused, see you soon! Boom! Boom!

No comments:

Post a Comment