Big Twat Live with Dan Up'n'Attenborough

Hello there, and welcome to Big Twat Live, coming at you live from my living room completely live as I live and breathe. As you might have guessed (although it's unlikely), the topic of this week's posts is going to be animals, in all their wondrous variety and splendour. Since I am odder than Bill Oddie and born to make Kate humble, I can't think of anyone better to educate you upon the glorious panoply of beasts that we share our world with. Today's topic - Urban Wildlife.




As you can tell from my expertly photoshopped picture above (who needs photoshop when MS Paint works just as well?), there is a particular urban beast that I'm thinking of. I speak, of course, about the Urban Fox.

Oft hailed as the most cunning of all animals (hence the phrase 'as cunning as a fox'), and occasionally described as the sexiest (hence the song 'Foxy Lady'), people are fascinated by foxes. And that's all well and good and quite harmless, unless you have taken the sexy thing a bit too literally and tried to awkwardly penetrate a fox behind some bins round the back of a nightclub. Which I have not. But staggeringly few people are aware of how dangerous the common fox (Foxus Eroticus, to use its Latin name) actually is.

In the country, people have feared foxes since medieval times, burning straw effigies on St Crispin's Day and conducting bloody wars against them on horseback dressed in the finest of regalia. However, in the city it is a different story. The staggering ignorance displayed by most city-dwellers when asked about the fox problem (the Red Menace, I call it) is stultifying. These metropolitan dullards literally have no idea of the destructive capabilities possessed by the little ginger tossers. Until now, that is.

Take a classic example. Your country fox, everybody knows, will break into a chicken coop and steal a chicken. However, did you know that an urban fox will break into your car to steal your stereo? No, thought not. And did you also know that he will probably sell the stereo to buy hard drugs, which he will then give to your children on the way to school? 'But I don't have children!' I hear you cry stupidly. Well, you will, my friends, and verily shall they be smackheads.

However, there is an answer to this bushy-tailed plague of fear. And I am going to give it to you straight (which was something I was unable to do for my last sexual partner, but more about my deviancy later) . So, here follows the Dan Up'n'Attenborough Guide to Urban Foxhunting as laid out by the Foxhunting Urban Coalition's Bill Of Behaviour (FUCBOB).

1. First, you will need to put together a tough young foxhunting team, preferably from the wrong side of the tracks. If they've spent their youth assaulting people, stealing and drinking heavily, they are probably possessed of the perfect mindset for dealing with the unfathomable evil of a fox.
2. You will then need to equip your team of thuggish freedom fighters with suitable steeds. A 50cc moped is generally considered to be the best tool for the job. Its manoeuvrability through tight alleyways and it's blistering straight-line speed will turn its rider into a fox's worst nightmare.
3. You will also need hounds. Pitbull terriers are good. They'll open a fox up like a tin of beans, pouring its ginger innards all over these mean streets.
4. Once you have chavs, peds and hounds, you are ready to fight the fox. Set off at dusk, and try to stick to the backroads. The faster you ride, the more chance you have of catching a fox unaware, so don't worry if you topple a pensioner or two. This is inevitable collateral damage, and they must be sacrificed for the greater good.
5. Once you have the fox in your sights, unleash your dogs. They will tear after it, baying furiously, and won't stop until they have it cornered (unless there's a nearby toddler to be mauled, of course. But there probably won't be, so that's ok).
6. When the fox is cornered, this is when you'll have to steel yourself. The best thing to do is approach the fox cautiously, camera-phone at the ready in case it tries to make any sudden moves. Once you are close enough, vigorously and repeatedly slap it across the face while your mates stand back at a safe distance and film the whole thing. When the fox is suitably subdued, you should either bury it in quicklime or incinerate it in a nearby wheelie-bin. This will prevent its corpse from reanimating - after all, the only thing worse than a fox is a zombie-fox.

So now you know what to do. And if you see a noisy gang of thuggish looking youths on mopeds at nightfall, you'll be able to doff your cap and say to them 'Well done, brave souls. I now know your true purpose. Godspeed.' They will appreciate your respect - after all, they're doing a dirty, dirty job.

Tomorrow on Big Twat Live - some other ballcrap. Goodnight!

This blog is produced in association with the Indie Supergroup Buried in Pompeii. It is written by Dan, and has absolutely nothing to do with the Indie Supergroup Buried in Pompeii.