This morning I decided to fry an egg, and when I cracked it on the side of the pan and threw it in, rather disturbingly, there were two yolks. I stared at it for some time before plunging in and trying to scramble it. It was hard to get the two yolks to separate, it was almost as if they were clinging together.

The violence we do.

It’s not that I think that eating plants is better – just because we can’t hear them scream, doesn’t mean they aren’t. As V pointed out, man has been eating other animals for time immemorial.

I think what gets me is the mass breeding. The rows and rows of chickens ‘cultivated’ simply so we can then consume them. The indignity of that life. There is something, well, creepy and immoral about columns of oysters ‘artificially inseminated’ so that we can then extract a pearl. I know oysters are only a goopy mass and so it’s hard for us to imagine that they could feel anything, or even if them ‘feeling’ is the only moral criteria for deciding for or against violence, but it just feels (there’s that word again) somehow wrong.

But somehow we have decided that it’s only wrong if it happens to human beings. How did we decide that? Isn’t that some monstruous egotism? Why couch it all up in philosophy – why not say each species of animals protects its own? At least that’s honest.

Hmm, of course, I did eat the egg.