A Dog's Life



I missed this Jeremy Clarkson piece which appeared in The Sunday Times the other week and he's absolutely right you know.

People do get terribly worked up about their animals, other people's animals and animals in general, especially dogs. 

Bombing a spaniel is a step too far, Mr Putin — we’re sending in the SAS

By Jeremy Clarkson - The Sunday Times



When the ebola virus started to run riot in west Africa we were all very sympathetic but nobody rushed to the kitchen with a chemistry set and a handful of Petri dishes to see if they could develop some kind of antidote.

It’s much the same story with Ukraine. We keep being told that this is a war that’s being fought if not on our doorstep then certainly at the bottom of the garden. And we worry about it in the same way as we worry about our neighbours’ marital difficulties. Which is to say, we don’t really worry at all.

And then there’s this grubby business in the Middle East. It’s horrific what these Islamic extremists are doing, we all know that. But we’re then not completely sure what exactly it is they are doing. Or where they are. Or what they want. Or what on earth we can do to stop it happening. So we turn over and go back to sleep.

The world is full right now of many serious problems and I think it’s fair to say that almost none of us would cross the street to help solve any of them. No, don’t argue. You wouldn’t go to Sierra Leone to be a nurse. You wouldn’t sign up to help the Ukrainian army. And what exactly have you done to help the homeless in Syria? Exactly, and neither have I.

And yet when someone set light to a dogs’ home in Manchester, half the city leapt from their beds and ran into the raging inferno to rescue as many of the inmates as possible. Afterwards, when the flames had been extinguished, so many people rushed in their cars to see if they could adopt a damaged dog, the police had to issue a stay-at-home alert, saying that roads were being overwhelmed.

Twenty-four hours later the charity that runs the home announced that it had received donations totalling more than £1m. That’s a million quid to rehouse the 150 survivors. And that works out at at least £6,666 per dog. They will be eating peach and peacock for the rest of their ermine-lined lives, that’s for sure. And there’s nobody in the whole country, or what’s left of it — I’m writing this before the vote in Scotland — who would begrudge them a single penny.

Apart perhaps from a Coronation Street actor called Jack P Shepherd, who went on Twitter to say: “I have a million ‘hot dog’ jokes.” Straight away there were calls for him to be sacked. You can make jokes about almost anything these days and keep your job. But dead dogs? No. There is a line in the sand, and Rover, trust me on this, is on the other side of it.

It’s not just dogs either. It’s all God’s creatures. I posted a picture on Twitter recently from a shooting party in Gloucestershire and plenty of people stepped forward to say that killing birds is wrong and that, er, we should wait for the partridges to die of old age before we put them in the oven.

Then you have the animal rights extremists who want to kill all scientists. And we’re not talking about half a dozen teenage girls here. I’d be willing to bet there are more people in Britain who would lay down their lives for a tortoise than there are who would lay down their lives for Allah.

Which tells us something we have known for a very long time. Britain is a nation of animal fanatics. Here we have believed for centuries that you must feed your horse before you feed yourself. That you can slaughter Johnny Foreigner and win a medal. But that if you cause a dog to be sad, it’s time to put your affairs in order and start oiling your service revolver.

Which gives me an idea. An idea that would end the apathy and malaise we currently have about world affairs.

At present, reporters are keen to show us the human suffering in various conflicts. All through the turmoil in Gaza we saw ruined houses, broken businesses and shattered limbs. We heard about dead civilians, and the next morning we went to work as though nothing had happened. But what would happen if we were to be shown pictures of a dead dog?

“I say, Jean. The Israelis have mortared a dog. Well, that’s that. I shall organise a bring-and-buy stall in the village hall immediately.”

And Ukraine. At present no one has much of an appetite to poke President Vladimir Putin in the eye. We know he is a megalomaniac with one hand on the nuclear red button and another on the tap that feeds continental Europe with gas. He frightens us.

But one photograph of a dead hamster would change all that. If we thought that soldiers in his employ had hurt an animal, the SAS would be scaling the Kremlin walls by tomorrow lunchtime.

All of which leads me to the sick bastard known as “Jihadi John”. He stands there, in the desert, spouting sixth-form common-room politics and then cuts a hostage’s head off. When I read in the papers about his antics, it makes me seethe with rage and fury. But then, like you, I turn the page and spend a little while reading about some minor celeb’s braless trip to the Chiltern Firehouse restaurant in central London.

I cannot believe that I do this. A British man was beheaded on the bloody internet. Somewhere out there, in this green and pleasant land, he has a family who are suffering from a grief that would beggar belief. And what are we doing? Rushing to Manchester to adopt a dog.

We need an event that changes our priorities. Which is why I’m wondering what would happen if an actor dressed up in black robes and stood in a desert somewhere, mimicking Jihadi John. And then, on camera, shot a dog.

Tragically, that would cause the nation to choke on its cornflakes. It’d get us on the streets. It’d cause us to stop worrying about a celeb’s side boob.

And who knows? We might even start supporting any action that would bring the real murderer to justice.

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