Only kidding. Today rubber-stamped what i've suspected for quite a long time; I can quite happily watch the torture of defenceless little animals as long as they end up a tasty treat on a plate ready for my belly.
On the way to school today (about an hour late as normal, which i'm definitely not complaining about), Joel stopped off at the poultry shop to grab us a couple of chickens. The smell of rotting chicken was pretty enticing so I followed him in to see what all the fuss was about. They had a brief conversation in Tamil which of course I didn't understand but, as usual, it sounded like there was going to be a fight instead of a transaction. Then the butcher went out to 'the back' and came back with three live birds (we'll call them olly, dolly and molly). I must have looked interested because the butcher, who was an old man with a Captain Birdseye beard, invited me round to witness the brutality straight away. He didn't mess about, he put some water on their necks and went straight for the jugular with a knife. I at least thought he'd go for a neck-wringing but each to his own. He claimed to be a chicken zoologist, which I nodded vigorously to at the time because I didn't want to appear stupid. Looking back, he was probably spinning me a line. He then put the chicken in what must be called a chicken-plucking-spinning-thing, then chopped, bagged and double-bagged the Mother up. 3 chickens for less than 6 quid by the way. And fresh ones too. Very fresh.
Two hours later I was tucking into coriander rice and chicken curry. Finger licken'. By the way, the chickens looked pretty happy to me and they weren't all cooped up so I think they died happier than most.
If this is offensive to vegetarians, cluck off.
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