The One That Is Thinking About Flying South . . .

It’s all really starting to fall apart now. For the last twelve years, a Labour government and their Righteous infantry have kept tigers as pets. All of a sudden, these tigers don’t want Whiskas for dinner, they want real meat that they’ve caught themselves.

The problem is that when you keep a wild animal in captivity it does not lose its desire to act like a wild animal, but it does lose the skills to live as one.

The first tiger to roar has been Anjem Choudary of a ‘fundamentalist’ (not too much fun, plenty of the mentalist) Islamic organisation who would see the imposition of Sharia Law in the UK. I’ll oppose that as strongly as I would oppose the imposition of any value system in the UK. In his video he basically tells the ‘English Defence League’ that they will lose, that the green flag of Islam will fly over Number 10. Well, he would say that. He also goes on to tell the United in Fascism, sorry, Unite Against Fascism to go and screw themselves and that they are perfectly capable of looking after themselves, thank you very much.

The tiger has awoken, and he is hungry and wants to stretch his legs.

The English Defence League are not one of the pet tigers that have been kept by The Righteous. They’ve been left out in the cold and have had to fend for themselves. They may not have the lustrous coats and full bellies of Choudary tiger, but they have survived, learned to hunt and have even resisted the urge to kill those who come to take their catch to feed those pet tigers. Until now.

A tiger in captivity will attack its handler as a substitute for the hunting sized hole in its life, it doesn’t do it out of hate, but because hunting and killing is what a tiger does, and it wants to feel more tigerish. A wild tiger will hunt to live, but will only attack another tiger as an absolute last resort. There is the difference between them, the captive tiger wants to fight to prove it is a tiger, the wild tiger knows it is a tiger and knows that the best way to remain being an alive one is not to scrap unless it has to. When that wild tiger fights though, it is to the death. This wild tiger has backed off and backed off and now has nothing more to lose, it is very, very dangerous.

The handler has a dog as well. A big dog. A ferocious yet very obedient dog. He sees the handler feeding his tiger, and as the handler also feeds him, reckons that the tiger is part of his pack. The dog will fight to the death to protect his pack, from the Alpha to the underdog, they stick together and see off any threat to the pack, or die in the attempt. United in Fascism, sorry, Unite Against Fascism are that dog.

The captive tiger looks at the dog and doesn’t see a pack member. He doesn’t see a pack. The tiger is a solitary animal. The tiger looks at the dog and sees lunch. He owes no loyalty to the pack, the handler has kept him locked up and prevented him from being a proper tiger.

The wild tiger looks at the dog and doesn’t see an equal. He sees one dog, on his own. More an irritant than a threat. That dog is an irrelevance, he can be dealt with later, the captive tiger is the threat. The pre-fight posturing is now underway, soon the fur will start to fly.

Given the fairly explicit message sent out by Choudary, will United in Fascism, sorry, Unite Against Fascism re-examine their loyalties? No. They fail to see the irony in combating a group they say are fascist, in support of a theocratic regime which is most certainly fascist by using tools employed by fascist organisations throughout history and around the world. Remember, United in Fascism, sorry, Unite Against Fascism are the dog, and not the Alpha. The handler is the Alpha and will sort out any squabbles within the pack. As far as the dog is concerned, if the Alpha tells Choudary tiger to go to his basket, he will.

Alpha hopes that when he tells Choudary tiger to go to his basket, he will.

Choudary tiger couldn’t care less about his handler, or the smelly dog. It doesn’t matter to him whether they get out of the way or die.

The handler’s wife isn’t concerned with the tiger, she quite liked having him in the enclosure in the back garden at first, but he isn’t very friendly, she concerns herself with the puppies. She loves the puppies, they are very cute and she cares for them very much. The handler’s wife gets very annoyed when people mistreat puppies, and wants to make it as difficult as possible for this to happen. She’s implemented a programme where anyone looking after someone’s puppy whilst they are away, or takes a puppy to puppy classes, or occasionally takes a friend’s puppy out for a walk, or who even stops in the street to give a puppy a pat, has to be checked to make sure they’ve never been mean to a puppy. She’d be much happier to check everyone, whether they have puppies or not, just to be doubly sure.

The vet’s wife has said this is stupid. It is the first time that the vet’s wife and the handler’s wife have ever had a disagreement. It is very odd, especially as the handler’s wife employs the vet’s wife as her lady who does. The next coffee morning could see fireworks. The handler’s wife thinks the vet’s wife is most ungrateful, perhaps she’ll employ someone else to do her cleaning and puppy walking. The handler’s wife doesn’t actually look after the puppies, but she’s still an expert, and knows how everyone else should feed and train their puppies.

The puppies just want to be able to go out and play and to learn some useful tricks. They’re not allowed to go and play though, there could be someone who is nasty to puppies hiding at the park, waiting to get them. When they graduate from puppy classes to go and be a guide dog, or an earthquake search dog, they find out they’ve not been trained to use their noses, and being able to say ‘sausages’, sing along to the theme tune to East Enders and rolling over are not useful skills. Then they grow up into dogs. They aren’t cute puppies anymore, and no-one likes them, they get left on the streets, to rifle through bins and chase the cats.

They then come across the wild tiger and think, ‘well, if it’s good enough for him. . .’

So where do I fit in? I may be the Snowolf, but what I actually am is a swallow. Sat in the trees, looking at the streets below, wondering why some people keep pets. I notice the nights are drawing in and think that winter is coming, it looks like it will be a bad one. Perhaps it is time to fly off somewhere?