I have been de-moled!!!
When I had my little issue with the rabbits (now resolved), I was quite happy to shoot them. This, I explained in various emails to appalled rabbit-lovers, was because I would then cook them and eat them.
I am not sure why I expected this to mollify or reassure appalled rabbit-lovers.
But my point was that I’d have felt bad otherwise. Killing something just because it messes up your garden a bit seems a little harsh. But I have no problem with killing for food. Otherwise I’d have to be a vegetarian. And I couldn’t be a vegetarian because I really, really enjoy meals that don’t just consist of vegetables.
Except chips. And jacket potatoes with cheese and beans. And foie-gras.
So I felt a bit bad about the mole. But it had reached the point of no return.
I can’t eat mole. I am a red-blooded male, but I can’t eat mole. I don’t know how you would have it. I guess spatchcocked on the barbecue, or maybe just chucked in the blender then into a milkshake.
But the mole was sort of commuting between our gardens, and had been digging more furiously than Ron Atkinson on the comeback trail.
Keith gave us some advice. He is a local man and drives a van, so should know what he’s talking about. Apparently it’s no use trying to bash a mole on the head with your spade. What you have to do, is dig in beside it, then flick it out of the ground into the air. As it lands, you then hit it on the half-volley through the covers.
Let’s not go into details. All I can say is that I hope Short Tony has a clear conscience. He is clearly a very evil man.
In the afterlife he is going to be really in the poo if he turns up and God is not a man with a beard at all but a HUGE GREAT BIG FUCK OFF MOLE.