Now don't get me wrong. I abhor violence. Never been in a fight. Couldn't harm a fly.
Yesterday Anne accidentally squished a wood mouse underneath the shed door and the poor thing lay there, its back legs all mangled, squirming its head up trying to move. Anne and I stood there pathetically, bickering about what to do, and who to do it. In the end I dispatched it as best I could - something I only did because Anne was going to go next door and get a real man to do the job - and I think I may need counselling to get over the experience, judged by last night's nightmares.
Still, this morning's Racing Post headline "Fallon punched by angry owner" will have brought a smile to the face of every clued-up punter who's spent at least a decade wishing someone would give him a right good kicking...
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