You Know It Makes Sense | 16 May 2009

I don’t bait greens only for fun. I do it because they’re public enemy number one

If only you could have seen the gratitude in my guinea pigs’ eyes just now. At least I think it was gratitude. It’s hard to be totally sure with those blank, dead, black staring eyes which, let’s be honest, aren’t noticeably more intelligent or expressive than a (very small) great white shark’s. Even so, if Pickles Deathclaw and Lily Scampers could speak, I like to think that what they would have said is this: ‘Thank you, human. You are so kind and generous and nurturing. Every day come rain or shine you sweep our cage of poo, you transport us to our outdoor play run, feed us fresh titbits — sometimes delicious broccoli stalks, sometimes apple, sometimes fresh dandelion leaves which you have personally harvested — and seem to mind not one jot that we are actually pretty crap animals with scratchy, panic-stricken claws who show you no sign of affection whatsoever.’

If Nature — Ma Gaia as I sometimes call her because we are on such friendly, intimate terms — were to speak, I’m sure her report would be similarly rosy. ‘Oh James,’ she’d say. ‘Dear, delightful, caring James. I did so appreciate the way you picked up all those horrid takeaway burger packs you found blowing round the pavement the other day. And your compost is coming on a treat, especially when you pee on it in that wholesome organic manner of which I so heartily approve. And I do like the way you’re bringing up your children to share your love of slowworms and wild raspberries and Cocky Olly in the bracken. And well done on your campaign against wind farms: I bloody hate them too…’