Big game hunter = one dead punter

If irony is your thing, you’ll have hit the jackpot this week, following the news that a big game hunter has been killed by an elephant.

The idea of a professional hunter justifiably fills most people in the UK with a sense of revulsion. Over in Zimbabwe, Thuenis Botha made his living doing just that, leading hunting groups on private ranches.

His website features charming images of him (and/or his children) and his clients, grinning next to assorted recently deceased wild animals such as leopards and elephants, whilst holding the gun they have presumably just used to finish them off.

So far, so morally repugnant. Mr Botha’s demise occurred whilst he was leading a group of hunters in the Hwange National Park. They managed to bumble into a herd of elephants, which included pregnant cows. As several of the panicked animals stampeded toward them, Botha was apparently picked up by one elephant using her trunk, after they opened fire (the hunters, not the elephant).

Another of the now endangered hunters promptly shot the elephant dead, causing it to fall onto Botha, crushing him to death. The location for the unfortunate elephant’s death (and Botha’s)? Good Luck Farm. I do believe my irony detector just overheated.

A tragic and depressing story for sure. We should be ensuring the safety of elephants, not gathering a bunch of testosterone-fuelled nut-jobs to go and hunt them for fun. As if the universe wasn’t already pushing it somewhat with the cosmic-justice angle, it seems that Botha was mates with another hunter, Scott van Zyl, who went missing after popping out for a spot of animal shooting on the banks of the Limpopo River.

A couple of crocodiles, shot during the search for him, contained the remnants of a breakfast with a DNA match to van Zyl. Shoot first and ask forensic questions later, presumably.

One thing is clear here, though. If we all had the common sense not to try and wipe out the dwindling wildlife on our planet for sport, there would be two crocodiles, one elephant and a couple of blokes alive who might be doing something useful instead.

I’ve been to the Manchester Arena for gigs several times. So the shock and horror of the suicide bombing there on Monday night felt closer to home than some of the other, appalling, acts of terrorism that have taken place recently.

With 22 killed, and 59 injured, this was another sickening attack on people getting on with their lives. A concert should be a joyous experience that you come home from exhilarated and happy. Sadly, some of Ariana Grande’s fans, and those waiting to collect them, didn’t get to go home to their family and friends.

Will it stop me going to gigs? No. I’ll go, sing along (badly), have fun and enjoy the shared experience with thousands of others. Because that’s exactly the kind of thing terrorists are trying to destroy. And I’ll remember the people who didn’t get to go home.

This post first appeared as my "Thank grumpy it's Friday" column, in the North West Evening Mail, on the 26th of May 2017. The version used online retained the title I suggested, whilst the print edition was re-named as "Why kill game for a laugh?". 

Difficult to know what to write about the Manchester attack. I hope what I said strikes an appropriate tone.

(CD A-Z: Suspended for a new Twelve Inch Seventies collection, "Boogie Wonderland". Fun-ky!)