Fox hunting might be fun, mightn't it? I wouldn't know. When I ride horses I like them to sort of amble, eat flowers, sniff things, maybe have a healthful little trot on the beach, and essentially not give my ass the vicious pounding of a good stiff gallop. But I imagine that if you were used to it, it could be a good time. Going really fast, super cute hounds baying, an animal getting ripped to peices, yelling gibberish, the sweet dangerous possiblity of braining yourself on a low-hanging tree branch and all. You could say it's quite bacchanalial, really. Which is retarded. If you're going to go all bacchanalial you should have some wild open-air orgies of sex instead of just violence. Your ass is already getting a vicious pounding anyways.

Anyhoo. I'd be all for the hunt if there was a Godiva-esque wager on it: every year that the hunters ride naked, the tax burden on the English that ends up supporting the household of the royal family should be cut. At a blow, poor people get to laugh at the sagginesses of the apparently idiotic hunting class (and I do mean idiotic) and the hunting class gets to have their brainless ass-pounding fun, simultaneously pulling the fangs of class conflict and impoverishing a backwards institution. Which hopefully means we in Canada can start having more attractive figures on our money (like him). As for the fox himself - I've just spent three days eating baby cow and swollen goose liver. So you know what I've got to say? Dick.