Real life | 5 November 2011

Sometimes I don’t suspect the world has gone mad, I know it. For example, I took a black cab home from the theatre the other night and, as we passed Tooting Common, the driver wound down his window and threw a handful of raw sausages out of it. I tapped the glass politely and asked him what he was doing. ‘I’m feeding the foxes,’ he said, reaching down for another sausage.

The vermin of Tooting were, of course, delighted. A hungry pack raced alongside us drooling and snaffling up the raw, pink meat as the cabbie cooed and called out pet names for them. ‘Excuse me,’ I said, leaning forward and tapping on the glass again, ‘but I’d like to point out that it’s your fault I have to live with this lot ripping apart my bins and running amok.’

‘Nah!’ said the cabbie, ‘you wanna encourage the foxes, mate. If it weren’t for them there’d be more rats.’