My Exciting Life in ROCK (part 2): 9/5/2004 - Railway Inn, Winchester

< previous

next>

Of all the political pressure groups in the world, pretty much my favourite is the Hunt saboteurs.

For starters they've got a RIGHTEOUS CAUSE - I partly grew up in the countryside and am of FARMING STOCK, but when I had some foxes ON MY LAND a few years ago I somehow managed to fight my COUTRYSIDE URGES and DIDN'T round up 30 (very close) relations, get dressed up like a bunch of radishes, mount horses and go riding over other people's back gardens in the hope of watching some deliberately starved dogs rip the poor animal apart. No, I moved the cat plates further into the kitchen and kept the door shut so the foxes couldn't smell it. It is the countryside way.

Secondly they are ADMIRABLY single issue. What do hunt saboteurs do? They sabotage hunts. EASY. My experience of Grass Roots Politics has constantly been BLIGHTED by people trying to turn EVERYTHING into a part of The Movement and, by doing so, impeding ANY progress, so that you can't even organize a Jumble Sale for the scouts without first deciding what the committee's position is on El Salvador.

The reason for this is possibly to do with the THIRD GRATE THING about them - they actually get off their arses and DO something. They don't put up posters round town, they don't spend all their time wording petitions and they don't hold cocktails parties to garner support amongst movers and shakers in the media, they get up bloody early and go off and sabotage HUNTS. And THAT is probably why, fourthly, they are one of the few pressure groups to actually WIN. You know hunting? It's ILLEGAL.

All right, yes, I know there's still plenty of rich bastards out there going untruncheoned, still enjoying their "traditional" pursuit of forcing one bunch of animals to viciously murder another for their own amusement and getting away with it because, well, because they're rich bastards. But still - the law is now on the side of GOODNESS and NICE PEOPLE, and that doesn't happen SO often that we can let it go by without celebration.

And all THAT is a long-winded way of explaining what I was doing all the way down in Winchester, because this particular gig was a benefit for the local Hunt Sabs. Typically it wasn't to pay for a fact finding mission or to arrange a workshop or pamphleteering, it was to buy a new motor for their LAND ROVER so they could piss off MORE rich bastards, with greater efficiency. HOORAH!

I was thus VERY happy to attend, but a little ALARMED by the publicity. One thing I DO find a bit odd about Hunt Sabs is that, like anti-Vivisectionists, they do seem a bit keen on showing you the most HORRIBLE pictures they can find. I mean, I get the point of it, to confront people with the REALITY of what they're campaigning about, but does it really need to be on T-SHIRTS? So many times walking through town on a Saturday you'll see anti-vivisectionists wondering why nobody will come near their stall, which is festooned with horrific images of animals in pain which make you want to RUN AWAY. WH Smiths must be chuffed to bits when they set up outside Dixons, and find a FLOOD of people dashing in to escape.

And this was very much the case here. My friend Ray, the organizer, had pinned a HUGE photograph of a dismembered fox to the door. To even get INTO the venue part of the building you had to push against its AGONISED FACE and, to be honest, if I wasn't going through to do a GIG I would have thought twice about it myself. Surely a nice picture of a Basil Brush in an oily pair of dungarees, fixing the motor, would have been more appealing?

The gig itself was lovely, even though my bit did suffer somewhat from so much waffling (I know, I know, it's hard to believe) that I had to cut out quite a few songs. It was also my last gig in Winchester, as the aforementioned Ray had finished his course and was heading home to the Midlands. It was a shame, as I always had a good time in Winchester, although a few months later I would begin a GRAND TRADITION of gigs concerning Ray that would continue to this very day.

< previous

next>