My head was splitting, I was blindfolded and had a gag over my mouth and nose. My mouth was sticking together from alcohol induced dehydration. It was my stag party last night and I’d just come to with my hands tied together. I moved my hands and they came off something on the wall. I nearly fell because it must have been my tied hands that had been keeping me up right. I pulled the gag off my face and it hit me.

What a bloody stench. I knew where I was, or at least what the building I was in was used for. I didn’t need to be able see, the overpowering, choking reek of ammonia that hit my face like a blast of death told me I was in an intensive broiler chicken raising unit. It’s the only thing I knew of that smelt this bad. You could almost chew, never mind taste, the foetid, hot air. The hens were cackling and squawking their distress at only a bit less than 120 decibels, you’d wonder where they found the strength. I could feel the feathers in the air on my hands and arms, there were tiny, fine, downy ones tickling the inside of my nostrils and the feel of the shit saturated, soggy litter under my feet told me that this lot were very near ready for their supermarket massacre.

The breeding of Ross hybrids meant they would be only a few days off their appointment with death as they put weight on so quickly that their mass would dislocate their knees if they were allowed to get any heavier. I could feel the birds as they pressed against the sides of my legs, they were really pushed for space at nearly a dozen per square metre. I’m sickened by the whole concept of broiler houses, and I do not buy meat of any kind from such a source. I only eat meat I’ve been introduced to when it was alive. As I pulled the blindfold off the obscenity became visual in the dim light too. As I suspected these birds must be within 24 hours of the wholesale slaughter. Some were already crippled by their dislocated knees.

I didn’t stay any longer and needed to get out and away from this place. I unfastened my loosely tied wrists and opened the door.
Someone asked me, “What are you doing in there?”
“Leaving,” was my only response as I pushed past him on my way to deal with the lousy bastards who are supposed to be friends of mine. They all knew how I felt about things like this and doubtless thought it was a huge joke. Well I knew of a few who wouldn’t be attending the wedding or the reception. I went to school with Kieran my best man, but he was now history. I knew Jacob would be delighted to step up to the mark for me, despite him not doing things like stag parties. I should have asked him first seeing as he’s my brother, but when Kieran and I were at school Jacob was Jacqueline my sister.