Oh dear... As I said to Bishop Cravish at a recent fundraiser: 'fox hunting is but the unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable'.
Nonsense and blather. Bishop Cravish said as much, I expect. Why, just last week the two of us enjoyed a fine day at the hunt, a fine day. I understand the fox was treed in the end, though sadly I wasn't there to see. My horse, I'm afraid. New to me, and a devilish rascal if ever there was one. He ran himself out in the churchyard in Wellsbourne-Little Bigglington. The vicar had me in for tea. Fine chap, a bit impoverished of course, aren't we all these days? The best breeding, though, the very best.
You're a bit short to be wearing that coat, aren't you, old bean?