Villy Vite!

A lot of people have asked me about French Hunting - is it any good?
I first had the chance to go hunting in France, back in the 1980s and I thought it great fun. It was the thought of renewing my pleasure that made me want to go back to France when I retired (or got sacked, which ever one you want), but after 20 years, hunting in France has changed and not for the better - roads and villages have spawned and grown out - traffic has sprawled and Parks have appeared. 20 years ago they hardly existed and your boar or stag could set out and provide a splendid hunt. Those days are gone. The Park at the bottom of our road has pigs and deer in plenty, and they get plenty of hunting; but is it any good? I fear not, the Park (about 30,000 acres) is totally enclosed in wire mesh fencing from which nothing can escape. It is owned by an 'Ancien Famille' - apparently, or, so It is rumoured, they fell into problems during the German occupation. The Park is now let to a local hunting person, a very pleasant chap who lets out the hunting and the shooting by the day. Very often during the hunting season, I hear the cry of hounds and the tantootling of horns, which I find very frustrating, but that is my problem not anyone else's. The tenant is very kind and sometimes he persuades one of his clients to invite me to hunt with customers. I do, but I have to say that when you have chugged round the park once or twice, you have really seen and done it all. My neighbouring farmer who is chairman of the local Commune Shoot says that there used to be wonderful hunts out of the park before it was enclosed. This I can believe. I remember having wonderful hunts from the wild woodlands in the Bourbonnais; I remember once that we got away from a straggling wood in the upper Loire with about 4 couple of hounds and they made a 20 mile point before the lone follower and his four children took the pig (a big bugger) in the middle of a field of baigies.
By 'taking a pig' I am not talking about picking it up and stuffing it in your pocket. A taken pig is by definition a dead pig - it has to be dispatched. This is usually done with a 'couteau de chasse' which is in effect a short sword. It can be a lance with a tear shaped blade with a 3 foot handle which is screwed on to the blade; rather in the same plan as a drain rod so most lances are made by blacksmiths; So when a pig is at bay - you are likely to see a lot of men running furiously from the nearest road and screwing their lances together as they run. They are hoping to achieve the honour of 'serving the Boar'; which means giving the pig a thrust with the weapon into the heart; which means just behind the shoulder- such an honour I never thought to achieve.
One day when I was hunting with the Countess; we were having a hunt; a roughly driven jeep roared up and pulled across the road.
The Countess cried that no one was to touch the pig until the English man had arrived. Well, she owned the hounds, the pig and most of the country round about. I found strong hands dragging me from my saddle with cries of "Villy Vite!" Then with me sprawling in the back, we roared away until the jeep stopped violently outside a thicket from which came much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Dark deeds were obviously afoot in the thicket. It was obvious that I was to be concerned in what happened next - the thicket was also a bog, with a deeply trodden path running into its deeps. In these depths came the baying of hounds and a protest of pig. It was only then that I realised that a major part in the final scene was to be played out by me. I had not a clue as to what to do. “Villy est ici” cried some mud spattered voices. Knarled hand seized me and dragged me to the thicket. 'Villy Vite!' became a sort of chant as I waded through the bog - rough hands passed along the chain until I arrived at the centre thicket where the pig was at bay - what did I do next? Well I did not know - Alberique, the cousin of the countess, knew exactly - he thrust a lance into my hand
"Be'ind the shoulder - Vite Villy! Vite!" So, that's the way it was and I am glad to say that it is a quick end.
So I staggered back through the mud to the edge of the thicket. A handsome old lady came and threw her arms around me: “Ah!' Bravo! Villy! It is a great honour for the pig to be served by an Englishman!"
- well I must say that that is a point of view that I had not considered. The handsome old lady used to go everywhere with a basket on her arm. From this she produced a croissant which she thrust into my muddy, bloodstained hand. She was always known as 'Madame Croissant'... and that's about it - well you asked me about French hunting and now you know as much as I do - Mind you it is nothing like as good as it used to be - 20 years since, what is?

Bad Eye

Did you all enjoy seeing old Tony Blair again?

You know that I cannot stand the little beggar - never have. When he became PM I was writing a column for the Daily Telegraph and someone asked - why did I not write a column about Blair? So I did, AND I told it like it was. I said that in veterinary terms he had a bad eye and no one should consider buying the bugger should they have the chance. After that the roof fell on me - I got letters saying that Blair was the best thing since sliced bread - that he was the only chance for Britain to become Great again and what was the matter with his eye.

It just happened that I had been to Appleby Horse Fair and I had seen several gypsy lads riding about on those Palomino ponies (things with cream manes and tails and great rolling blue eyes and terrible temperaments) - that is what I call a bad eye. This I explained to my readers was what I meant about a bad eye - It was all to do with temperament and I reckoned that Blair had a dodgy temperament. In fact I called him a snake oil salesman. Nothing that has happened since has changed my judgement of that time. I stood by it then and I stand by it today. The 'Bad Eye' is still something that I mistrust instinctively and I have seldom been mistaken. I am afraid that I felt the same about the last Princess of Wales, whom I always felt would bring trouble. That brought the ceiling down on my head too - poor sad girl, and what about Bliar? Can anyone say that he has not been trouble? - and brought more of it around all those who have trusted and believed him . Well thank God that none can accuse me of making that mistake. I was horrified when I heard that Blair was in line for some sort of head shed ness in the foremost ranks of Europe - I have never thought much of Europe - but surely they could not be as stupid as that? - and in the end they the Euros napped at the idea and quite right too. Not even the French could be as stupid as that - could they? Well, I do hope not, in fact I hope that Blair disappears back to wherever he has been hiding, I think that he is supposed to be keeping the peace in the world. Do you really think that he has earned the thick wedge that he gets every week / month?

Anyway, I do not know how many of you listened to Claire Short talking to Chilcot yesterday. I have always thought of Ms Short as a pretty tiresome woman and I was not surprised when Blair chucked her out of his Cabinet. She loves TB even less than I do. Anyway, she didn't half pitch into the little bugger yesterday and gave him a right good gliff around his lug, which he well deserves. The unfortunate Iraqis do not deserve all the troubles in which Blair left them and where this government will quite happily continue to leave them.

If you get a chance, get a DVD called The Trial of Tony Blair. It won't happen; even If it should, but it might give you something to dwell on - it cheered me up just thinking that it might - hope springs eternal.