Darlings. I went to a supermarket this week. Voluntarily, mes choux — no one forced me. I put on my best nonchalant expression (not difficult for a fox), slipped in through the loading bay, and made straight for the fruit...
Darlings. A fox reads the newspapers. Not every fox does — most of my brethren prefer to get their intelligence from bins, hedgerows and the occasional intercepted chicken — but yours truly has always kept an eye on the broadsheets....
Darlings. This fox has been to Scotland. Not for the whisky — though one did partake, mes choux, it would have been rude not to — but on a matter of some urgency. I had heard rumours about what was...
Darlings, Last week your favourite food freedom fighter reported from the wheat fields. This week, mes choux, I took a little trip to the seaside. Dover, to be precise. Not for the white cliffs — though they are ravishing in...
Darlings. I once shared a very long evening with Marlon Brando on the island of Tetiaroa. It was 1989 — the Apocalypse Now years were behind him, his weight was doing things that alarmed his tailor, and he was sitting...
Darlings. Something unusual has happened to this fox. Something that, after weeks of gas chambers and bycatch and petroleum-waxed apples and weedkiller on toast, I was beginning to think might not happen again. I feel hopeful. I am writing this...
Darlings. No celebrity anecdotes today. No glamorous escapades. No winking references to my time as a police frogman in the Solent (the less said about that the better). This one is harder. But a fox who calls himself a food...
Darlings. I did something reckless this week. Something no fox should ever attempt without proper training and a stiff drink. I went to a supermarket and I read the back of a packet. I know, I know. Mes choux, I...
Darlings, This silver fox has seen some things in his time. I once watched a man in Marseille eat an entire wheel of Époisses in a single sitting (the less said about the aftermath the better). I've witnessed Hunter S....