I saw a dead fox today on my way in. It was just lying there, like it was asleep, but with no evidence of it having been attacked or run over or anything quite so soap opera. My first thought was ‘I wonder if it had a heart attack’. My second thought was ‘I wonder if he’s left a wife and kids at home, and how they’ll eat tonight’. My third thought was ‘I wonder what Ted Hughes would think’. Then a whole load of passengers got on after Kentish Town and I didn’t have a fourth thought because I was annoyed.

A friend of mine noticed another dead fox on the opposite side of London this morning.

There can be only one…