When we kept chickens and ate meat, I decided I would have to be prepared to kill the cock and eat it. (we had more than one) After all, I am a farmer's daughter; so I borrowed a special implement called the humane dispatcher, and I dispatched the bird. I felt rather shocked afterwards and couldn't think of cooking it but one if my sons came home. He has worked on a highland estate so had fewer qualms and between us we plucked and prepared the cockeral for dinner. We sat down to eat quite late at night and gave thanks to the bird for its life. He was delicious. If we had to go to those lengths each time we ate meat, it would become a rare treat.
Why doesn't Starmer hold another referendum?


