Some of you will remember red squirrels. Cute creatures, driven to the remotest corners of our land by the invading horde of bigger, meaner, disease-carrying grey squirrels. It's time for payback and the indigenous reds now have someone fighting their corner. That someone is Rupert Redesdale...
The Observer today carries an article in its magazine section about the campaign to save the red squirrel, led by an organisation called the 'Red Squirrel Protection Partnership'. As Rupert puts it, "We only call ourselves the Red Squirrel Protection Partnership because if we called it the Grey Squirrel Annihilation League people might be a bit less sympathetic.".
It is one of the funniest articles I have read for a very long time, and Rupert comes across as slightly eccentric (guilty as charged, M'Lud...) but deeply convinced of the rightness of his actions. He and his team have gathered together hundreds of volunteers in their quest to rid Northumberland of grey squirrels, including some wonderfully unlikely help. The grannies, Rupert suggests, tend to be the most bloodthirsty trappers. 'It's like: "Can you beat it to death with a hammer and let me watch?" We had one old dear who went inside and came back out with a sort of elephant gun: "Do you want to shoot it with this?"'.
Best of all, Rupert displays a sense of irony that is worth preserving. For those of you with a knowledge of the history of the Mitfords, there is one line that is, to my mind, priceless. Read the article, and marvel at the work of one of our less prominent Peers.
Rupert, you are a treasure...
