There’s a priceless scene in an early episode of Da Ali G Show in which the arch wind-up merchant attends a fox-hunting event. Sidling up to a good-looking female rider, G enquires idiomatically: “Iz you da fox?”
Well, on Sunday 5 October, that’s exactly what I will be. For I am heading to Coakham Bloodhounds in East Sussex, a kennels that proudly claims to “hunt men for fun”.
Since The Hunting Act came into play in 2004, country folk have had to find alternative ways of amusing themselves on the weekend. One way that’s presented itself is hunting humans.
As prey, Homo sapiens has several advantages over Vulpes vulpes, Britain’s common red fox. Whereas foxes will happily dart across busy roads, endangering themselves and their pursuing hounds, humans are somewhat more safety conscious. To use hunting parlance, man is a “controllable quarry”.
“But, Rick, when they catch you, they’ll tear you limb from limb!” I hear you cry. Apparently not. The dogs involved in a manhunt are bloodhounds, which differ from foxhounds in two important ways: first, they have an incredible sense of smell (humans give off less of a pong than foxes); second, they’re a docile bunch, more likely to cover you in slobber than blood.
After the hounds are given a quick whiff of the human quarry, the runners are allowed to put some healthy distance between themselves and their pursuers. Apparently there’s a real art to playing the fox: knowing which fields to avoid; leading the riders on an interesting route; rummaging through people’s rubbish. You get the idea.
Hunting humans is called “Hunting the Clean Boot”, although, by all accounts, the route is anything but clean. Puddles, lakes, brambles, bushes – all must be negotiated by the human fox. Naturally, I can’t wait to become a hunted man.
