Kick Em With Your Vegan Boots
The voice of a Syrian on the radio rouses me from my pillow. I wake up. In a developed part of Europe. Relieved.
There are several thousand human animals embarked on a desperate journey to this very spot. Only border control stands between me and them. It would be churlish to complain about being down to my last five pound note.
So, I head out into the market place.
"Chicken-friendly" staff needed for new chicken outlet.
"Nuclear-friendly pilot needed to fly atomic weapons to Japan", I tell the new manager.
He doesn't think the analogy adds value to the conversation. I am shown the doorway. I am free to walk out into sunlight.
It is the most chicken-friendly thing I'll do all day.
24 August 2015