The following is distilled from a whole evening's conversation overheard in a village pub.
"Ban hunting and a prosperous future beckons for those involved in the manufacture of poisons. The Government should realise the fate of the cyanide industry rests in its hands.
"In farm buildings and keepers' sheds up and down the country there must be, what, 100,000 snares and gin-traps waiting to be used?
"Garrotte the buggers, that's what I say. People don't like it if the fox is left hanging about for days with a broken leg.
"Why should decent, hard-working countryfolk await the decision of a bunch of townies who see the countryside as nothing more than a tourist attraction or somewhere they can drive to at weekends?
"But I'll tell you something, that spinney in the west meadow, I'll clear it right out... raze it to the ground. Why should I give Toby a hiding place? All the time it's there, he's laughing.
"No, I'll smoke him out, I'll dig him out, I'll bash his skull in with my spade and kick his cubs to death.
"Ban hunting and I'll bring 50 hounds to the gates of Downing Street and shoot them one by one."
-C Hughes, The Pines, Haywards Heath
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