With shared access issues to consider.
Not to mention the space problem; exacerbated by the recent neighbourly erections of barbed and electrified fences. Together with a recent, top-secret government decision; I have a fruitless morning of telephone conversations. The very nice people at 118 insisted on continually putting me straight through to either a locksmith or plumber for some reason.
The search engine at Yell.com must have been having an off day too. In response to my request of “rip a fox to shreds and feed on its entrails” I was directed to their office equipment listings. To save readers from wasting their time; I can confirm that none of them sell a shredder recommended for fox eradication. Even, somewhat surprisingly, the confidential destruction experts at Reisswolf baulked at my query. I couldn‘t get through to James, Trinny or Susannah to complain either.
Several plummy voices also confirmed that none of my local hunts were willing to provide a herd of Shetland ponies and a couple of Yorkshire terriers to flush him towards my super-soaker. Which is a shame; I thought they would have been pleased with an offer of work. ‘Brother X’ at the Leafy Suburb branch of animal liberationalists wasn’t a great deal of help. In fact, he was very coarse.
In desperation I call a familiar number.
“Hello, Leafy Suburb Enviro-Crime Unit. Kay speaking; how can I help you?”
I decide to keep it friendly, there’s no point being antagonistic just because the lazygoodfornothingcow refused to help with my previous problem.
She wasn’t going to make it easy then.
“I have a problem.”
“Yes, I know.”
What? Maybe I had misjudged the Enviro-Crime Unit. Had they been carrying out their own surveillance? They could have given me the nod; I hardly got a wink of sleep.
“Oh, you’ll know I need an exterminator then?”
Aha! Sleeping on the job were we?
“Well the law says I can’t use poison or shoot them in an urban area; I can’t chase them on horseback and I can’t get a big enough shredder. I’ve tried encouraging my bitch to savage one of them, but she seems reluctant.”
“The law says I can trap them though.”
Clearly Kay wasn’t up to speed with the current legal situation.
“Yes it does. I need to know what to do with him afterwards though. Do I put him in the boot of my car then drive to a forest and dump him, or do you have a better suggestion?”
“Err…I think I need to put you through to someone else.”
At last, some action.
Ten minutes later.
“Hello, you’ve reached the Leafy Suburb Conflict Resolution Team. We’re not in the office at present. If you’d like to leave a message after the tone we’ll get back to you.”
Great; I hate answer-phones.
“Err….hello, my name is Brian…..I don’t know how much you’ve been told? I’m trying to build a knoll in my garden so I can ambush my neighbour and it’s not going very smoothly…. Last night I was on stag and spotted an interloper that I need to get rid of first. I would be grateful if you could send me the details of an exterminator…”
“...who specialises in...”
Damn! Still, at least they got the gist.
That fox won’t know what’s hit it.