Would it, really? Let's look at the circumstances, shall we?
A few weeks ago Taxi and I were out on our regular early evening stroll in Shoreditch Park when a Staffordshire bull terrier ran towards us.
In a split second we sensed danger but I wasn’t close enough to grab my dog in time. Taxi’s eyes widened as the bull terrier leapt on him, sinking its teeth into his neck and causing him to let out a pained, terrified squeal.
I immediately seized the attacker and tried to pull it off my poor dog. “Oi, you,” came a drunken shout from 10 feet away.
“F***ing leave my dog alone.”
The bull terrier now had its snarling jaws clamped around my fingers. I managed to whip my hand away, scoop up Taxi and sidestep the salivating mutt.
“And keep your poof dog away from mine,” the drunk raged on. His eyes were red, his body swaying like he was on the deck of a boat.
I recognised him instantly from the local council estate. He’s often seen lurching around the park with his Staffy. It’s not the first time they've intimidated Taxi or me and I’ve heard similar tales from other dog-walkers.Yes, that's just the sort of person who'd trot along to the Post Office to immediately slap some beer vouchers down on the counter a few scant seconds after the ink was dry on the legislation, isn't it?
Dog licences existed in Britain until 1987 (and are still in force today in Northern Ireland). They cost 37p and were seen as a tax on dog ownership that no one took seriously. But if they cost £20-£30, with discounts for pensioners and people with disabilities, it could help raise more than £100 million.And just how much would it cost to administer and enforce, you utter, utter moron?