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About this time of year, as the streams trickle their way to the Itchen and coots fly south, my part of Hampshire witnesses what has become something of a phenomenon.
Before I moved here, I merely assumed that the grey squirrel ate nuts and
scampered playfully through trees and shrubbery, waving its tail merrily at
chaffinches and doffing its cap to hedgehogs. Yet I soon learned that
Micheldever's grey squirrel population have far more sinister motives.
I was first alerted to this while buying some postage stamps and a tin of
hotdog sausages in the village shop. As I noted down lockjaw tips from Muriel,
the kindly proprietor, I was struck by the swift entry of a grey squirrel
through the slightly ajar door. Before Muriel could bash it with her broom
the blighter had made off with four birthday cards, a loaf of bread (unsliced)
and two pears! Enquiring as to whether this was a novel crime, I was informed
that the shoplifting squirrel was an annual occurrence in Micheldever.
Already that Muriel had lost a ton of spring onions to the animals and had
had to secure her stock of ballpoint pens.

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Last year, the situation reached a peak that many locals are worried will be
surpassed this year. On one afternoon alone, thirty grey squirrels descended
upon Winchester liberating electrical goods, records, books, clothing and
even street signs in a frenzy of thieving - enough to make Oliver Twist look
like a small, fictitious boy.
The goods are sold in burrows and at car boot sales. Rabbits are the principle
recipients of the stolen goods. According to my wife, things are set to become
even worse. Some offenders have already been witnessed carrying pocket knives
and baseball bats.
However, we must feel reassured. In some parts of Scotland, most notably
Renfrewshire, (where I saw my first Spaniel), and Arbroath, red squirrels
have for the past eighty years been dealing in crack cocaine to all willing
purchasers. I suppose we must thank Lord God on High for some small mercies
in his relationship with Mother Nature the Whore.
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