The man in a beanie
ACOUPLE of small indeterminate furry creatures peer cautiously over a grassy hillock somewhere in the British countryside. Let’s call them Bill and Ben. Ben: All clear. Bill: (looking around anxiously) It pays to be cautious. Ben: True. They come out of nowhere. The fact is, Bill, rural Britain is full of busybodies who won’t give us a moment’s peace. Forever prying into where we are, what we’re up to, who we’re dating. They say it’s all for our own good but personally I think it is to fill an aching existential void. At least you knew where you were in the old days when it was only maniacs in tweed with shotguns. Bill: Who’s the ringleader? Ben: That man called Matt. Wears a beanie. Laughs at his own jokes. And there’ll be a camera crew. They all dress like they’re about to climb Ben Nevis. Ben: Ben who? Bill: Never mind. Plus there’ll be an “expert” in a beanie… or a bobble hat. There’s a lot of smiling and those “serious face” moments to show how caring they are.
Ben: You’re frightening me. Then what happens?
Bill: Well there you are minding your own business, polishing your whiskers. And suddenly they’re all over you making a hullabaloo about how astonishing it is to see you and how clever they are, their patience rewarded, blah blah. Ben: Easily pleased. Bill: Quite. No offence but I’m never that pleased to see you. Ben: None taken. Bill: Anyway before you know it you’re picked up, prodded and someone puts a ring on your leg or a tag in your ear… Ben: Or a GPS tracker up your… Bill: Steady. But they will stick you in a bag, inspect your genitals and take measurements without so much as a by your leave. If you bite them they chuckle affectionately. Sheesh. Sometimes they – sorry to say this – pick up your droppings and put them in a plastic tub. Ben: Gross. What’s it all for? Bill: Well, while you’re trying to look dignified in a bag they have a conflab about long-term studies and conservation and how important it is to monitor our movements 24/7. It’s an absolute liberty.
Bill: But they let us go afterwards? Don’t they?
Ben: Course they do. There’d be one helluva Twitter storm if they hurt one little hair of our precious heads. And they put on a soppy smile when we stomp off into the brambles and call us “little fella” or something. Yuk. As if they’ve done us a favour.
Bill: Favour my backside. But the camera crew. What’s that about? Ben: Well they like to film it all. Bill: Perverts. Ben: I couldn’t possibly comment. It’s for a TV show. Bill: Called..? Ben: …Countryfile.