Sharpshooter

The snowflake society might be seen as a fairly recent phenomenon but these sensitive souls have walked among us for longer than you think

The media recently carried a story about the University of the Highlands and Islands, based in Inverness, issuing a trigger warning about Hemingway’s classic novel The Old Man and the Sea. Students were warned that it contained “graphic fishing scenes” (Quote of the Week, 16 March).

Even the Guardian sniffily agreed that the warning was ludicrous — though it buried the admission within a sneering column that concluded: “… let’s be clear: an overzealous attempt to inform students about content they may find upsetting is not something to be outraged by…”

I’d forgive you for thinking that this was merely the latest example of a very recent phenomenon, the snowflake society, where cosseted youngsters, often students, think they have a right not to be offended by anything. Hardly the mind-broadening experience that a spell at university is meant to encourage. Yet, in reality, this sort of nonsense has been around for longer than you might think.

In 2011, a father was with his children on holiday in Devon when he contacted authorities in the port of Ilfracombe to lodge a complaint about the crates of dead fish and crabs lining the harbour wall. He made a specific reference to a boat called the Lady of Lundy, which had recently returned to shore with its catch.

Such was his detachment from reality that the father, whose children were seven and nine, contacted the local newspaper, the North Devon Journal, to gain wider exposure for his complaint. “There were 12 crates of dead crabs and fish lying there covered in flies. It’s not the sort of thing you want to see on holiday; there was a real stench. My children were quite distressed by it. These people should be a bit more considerate to the holidaymakers.”

The harbour master patiently explained: “We have the unusual set-up of a working harbour which has public access. This is generally considered an asset because visitors can get a really good feel for how the industry works, they can enjoy the whole experience. Meanwhile, my response to him was ‘I’m sorry but you shouldn’t be taking your children to a harbour if that is how they react to dead fish’.”

Scott Wharton, the owner of the boat, was a little less diplomatic. “It’s pretty obvious this bloke’s a bit of an idiot. It’s ludicrous to come to a fishing harbour and complain about the fish. If you don’t want to see dead animals, don’t go to a working quay.”

Going back even further, to 2007,

I wrote about a case of offensive moles. A farmer and shoot manager had told me that the police had visited his teenage daughter, who earned her pocket money by

“It’s ludicrous to come to a working fishing harbour and complain about the fish”

mole catching, after a rambler complained of being distressed by the sight of dead moles hanging on a fence. This is, of course, simply the time-honoured way mole-catchers show the farmer what they’ve caught. It’s part of rural culture. For the rambler to call the police may seem laughable. That the police actually responded was almost beyond a joke.

No animals were harmed in the writing of this column.