Saw a bull fight on TV the other day. The bull lost. It’s a pretty poor sport. You could create a similar afternoon’s amusement by poking a caged rat for a couple of hours, then blowing its head off with a pistol.
When I was at Oxford with Boris Johnsons no one could call himself a Corinthian who hadn’t raced around Scone College quad with a live ferret down his britches. The other chaps would try to whack it with croquet mallets.
This was before they let women in, of course.
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