Sometimes, when the wind is in the right direction, the goodly folks of Hadleigh are treated to a choral performance of prolonged howling. A reminder, if one were needed, that the Essex & Suffolk's Hunt's kennels are located just down the road in Layham.

In recent months, though, there has been some doubt as to whether these sounds are canine or human in origin. They are certainly expressions of anger and frustration.

For all is not well at t'Hunt. 

James 'Foxy' Buckle

Now before delving deeper into this creeping malaise, I need to reiterate my usual disclaimer associated with this topic. And, yes, I know it's one that satisfies neither wing of the still visceral debate about the rights and wrongs of hunting, even under the current legislation.

I'm a neutral. I'm a sixteenth century boy, you see, and those times, dear reader, were bloody, messy and cruel for people and beasties alike.

You can take the ghoul out of the epoch, but not the epoch….well, you know how it goes.

So for me, whether you be sabs or masters (shades of Montagus and Capulets here: I wonder if there's ever been any miscegenation 'twixt the two teams? That would make a rollicking good musical), I'm not on your side – yet.

That said, I am fascinated by the reputational helter-skelter down which the Hunt is determinedly travelling.

The recent incident when a deer was shredded by the Hunt's hounds near Woolverstone, before then chasing after a fox, would suggest either possible incompetence or negligence on the part of  the chap in charge of 'em, don't yer know?

Armed with the PR skills of Russell Brand, the huntyperson, in response to this act being filmed, brushed it off as "a little accident". In other words, a bad day at office. A slip of the preacher's pen. That type of thing. No harm done. Just patch the wee little muntjac back together with super glue and goodwill. No-one will notice.

Well, it is actually PC Passmore's finest that will make that judgement call as the police are now looking into the matter.

It appears as if the Essex & Suffolk has an account at both the county constabularies within which it operates, as there seem to be any number of investigations being pursued into various criminal allegations.

And whilst it might be lowly staffers who have to face up to the consequences, the wannabe lords and ladies who actually run the Hunt have hitherto ignored such controversies as being both metaphorically and physically given their large steeds, well frankly darlin', beneath them.

As an aside, if you want to see an encapsulation of the rural class divide, hoof (sorry!) it over to the Hunt website. As a friend smuttily observed: "the Essex plebs know that their place is under the Suffolk nobs".

All of the ersatz gentry rejoice in an appellation before their names: Mr, Mrs, Countess, Prince-Bishop, SS-Oberstgruppenfuhrer etc. All very nice and respectful.

But the workers? Well no such courtesy is extended to them. They are just plain Jack, Kirsty or Jamie. I fear that they are the Baldricks to James 'Foxy' Buckle's Lord Melchett – as hardworking but as dispensable as the hounds. 

Speaking of Foxy, there are rumours that all this bad publicity and attention from the Plod, is beginning to do for his nerves.

There were suggestions that he had or was about to dismount as the Hunt's master. But he's still listed on the Hunt's site as being a one of them.

To be honest, I'm not sure that he's been as on point this year as previously. He does seem more distracted than ever. His ramblingly incoherent geopolitical analysis before last year's Boxing Day hunt certainly perplexed many of his listeners.

Fox that got away

Furthermore, creating a cordon sanitaire between his jodhpur-riding pals and his other commercial interests makes sense.

He and his family have, after all, their fingers in many business pies and must worry that a concerted consumer boycott of these various enterprises might scald those self-same digits. 

For example, one of his sons owns the rather fine Sudbury brewery Mauldons. I'm sure even sabs drink Silver Adder from time to time. 

Contrariwise, another waggish friend of mine did, however, suggest there might be some cross-promotional opportunities here: Deer's Blood ('a dark and aromatic porter'), Huntsman's Hump ('a local twist on a US-style sour beer') and Quaddaled ('a light-headed and dutiful IPA').

Needless to say this friend hasn't the first clue about marketing.

So we'll see how this all works out for Foxy. But I do wonder if the winds of change are gathering force?

Horror and outrage as Hadleigh hunt kills deer