I took down last night's Cecil post because I suspected that the net would be saturated with righteous and indignant comments about it anyway, and I was not wrong. Then this morning, I heard someone say that everyone feels vindicated by joining in outcries like this in any case - all given from a safe distance - so I was glad I took it down. Enough is enough, not that anything we could do about it would ever be enough.
But, as ever is the case, I have now set myself on a train of thought which is difficult to put a stop to. As anyone will tell you, all my thoughts at the keyboard come straight out of my head via my fingers.
I don't belong to that smoothbore shooting club any more, but when I did I declined all invitations to go shooting pheasant on the grounds that I didn't like killing things for sport. I am quite happy to eat pheasant which has been shot this way, because I think that it is far better to eat meat which hasn't been clinically killed, but that's another issue.
I learned from one of the meanest members of this club that the only thing he spent large amounts of money on was to fly to Africa specifically to shoot the biggest examples of wildlife that he could - this was his idea of a holiday. I just cannot get to grips with this notion. Apparently, the only reason that the dentist did not shoot an elephant was because they couldn't find one big enough for him.
It's like all those fishing magazines which have someone cradling a 3 foot fish with a massive grin on his face. Why is it that when anyone has the bad grace to pose next to an animal whose life they have just abruptly ended, they have to have stupid grins on their faces? Whenever I have killed something, it takes a couple of hours before I can muster up a smile, but these people are often even laughing jubilantly whilst using the corpse as a gun-rack. It's not just men either, though it usually is.
Anyway, I'll end up with a joke I heard this morning:
A woman wants to buy a parrot so she goes into the pet shop. She sees a fine specimen and asks how much it costs. £20 comes the answer, so she asks why it is so cheap. The owner explains that it used to live in a brothel and has a somewhat fruity vocabulary. She buys it and takes it home, putting it in the living room.
When the wraps come off the cage, the parrot looks around and says, "Hmm. new brothel. very nice."
When her two daughters arrive home and go in, the parrot says, "Ooh look - two new girls. Very nice."
When her husband comes home, the parrot says, "Hello Keith!"