It is a bloody mess...

Bits of animal are strewn everywhere - skins adorn wrecked cars in fetching, tragic ways, severed limbs hang from lamp-posts, and blood stains the eye-catching Victorian cobbled streets. The animals are all dead, ok? Don't worry, we won't have to talk about them anymore after today. Unless you want to, of course, dear reader; hunched over your drinks in the pub, perhaps, or in the classroom, hunched over your drinks. Perhaps, in the creche or nursery (Kindergarten, you filthy Yanks [You're probably clean. I apologise]) you sit around in groups, hunched over your drinks, discussing my blog. Or herds of shoppers, rushing for Christmas gifts, meeting old friends by coincidence, hunch over their drinks to discuss my blog.
  But I doubt it.

No, you aren't seeing this.
Just keep moving.

  Anyway, back to the animals. All dead. Good stuff. I mean, not for the animals of course. Actually, a few of them were pretty endangered, so its probably a bad thing they killed each other. But you, YOU BASTARDS, you're too selfish to see it that way. You just saw the animals as an annoyance, you're glad they're out of the way. You little fuckers, you couldn't give a damn about the ecosystems affected, could you? The delicate balances of nature are unwinding, precious beings lost to us now, their knowledge and beauty fading. But this means nothing to you Sons of Bitches, who care nothing f... Wait a second, we could eat them!

  I voiced this though to Max, who quickly helped me set up a barbecue. Piling up the dead beasts, we began to feast. Good stuff, completly justified the large-scale animal death. Yum!