Well, I see that the Brits are at last about to bite the quirt and outlaw fox hunting. It might seem a trivial preoccupation in these iron days—only in England would the pursuit of the old Vulpes Vulgaris, the common fox, threaten to divide the nation. If Hitler had twigged this soft, foxy underbelly of his enemy, who knows what might have happened? Like many other things in English life, fox hunting has become so much a part of the cultural picture, even among those who wouldn’t know a stirrup from a surcingle, that attacks on it not only bounced off but contributed further to its institutionalisation. Oscar Wilde’s definition of fox hunting as ‘the unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable’ was certainly witty but, in a sort of reflex way, it conceded to the importance, the institutional status, of fox hunting. As if it was the kind of essentially British cultism that deserved the best possible satiric bon mot, even from a stroppy Irishman.
But what is not well known, even in Britain, is that the main thrust behind the ban has come not from animal rights people—though, of course, they have been very much to the fore—but from MI5. British security realised some time ago that groups like the Crutchley Hunt Club or the Groigne View Halloo were ideal covers for spies and, more recently, prospective terrorists.
It was happening like this. Men ‘of Middle-Eastern appearance’ would move legitimately to Britain and, donning pink or scarlet jackets, tight white jodhpurs, shiny black knee-high boots, chic riding helmets and blowing a loud, dissonant horn or shouting ‘Tally-ho’ or ‘Yoicks’, would merge seamlessly into the fabric of English society. Years later, established and respected in rural circles, individuals like Sir Mohammed Gormley-Gormley Vere Alahhwi Rasheed would be ready and fully trained ‘sleepers’, as they are known in the trade, capable of being triggered for terrorist activities by a secret code published as the clue for 14-across in The Times crossword.
This particular example refers to a real event in which the conspiracy was cracked wide open by Scotland Yard’s Chief Superintendent Ali Shoab O’Brien. He noticed that 14-across—‘Ram New Scotland Yard entrance with truckload of explosives on 20 April at 11am’ should have been the clue for 14-down. His complaint to The Times—signed ‘Puzzled of Greys Inn Road’—led to the whole imbroglio being uncovered. That very same Gormley-Gormley Vere Alahhwi