Wednesday, December 26, 2012

A Question Of Sport

We used to talk about it lots. We used to talk about all kinds of things lots. A few of the boys had Staffordshire Bull Terriers, they used to talk about dog fighting. Young wanna be toughs who'd be more likely to pat their dogs to death than let them tear each other apart. No, they had the dogs but it was all part of an image, a facade, nothing more, those boys loved those dogs make no mistake about that. I knew of dogs ate better than I did.

One lad reckoned he'd seen two dogs fighting a badger. He was full of shit. I'd never seen a badger and that's still true to this day. I think he'd seen it in a book, or on a TV documentary. He knew all about it.
"They break the badger's jaw first to make it a fair fight." A fair fucking fight where they break your jaw first? Christ!
 "And then they let the two Staffs loose on him and they work as a team. The farmer, when he's digging the badger out, he shoves sticks down his wellies 'cause if the badger takes hold, he'll not stop biting until he breaks your leg. If he hears the snap of the sticks he'll let go." Our champ could never quite explain why, if the badger was such a fearsome creature, the farmer wouldn't just shoot him never mind, dig him out, break his jaw - with a club, I imagine - and then risk two good dogs.
"Sport, mate, sport."


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