The Shadow of Great Britain

386: Chapter 228: The British’s Deadly Game (5K)_3 386: Chapter 228: The British’s Deadly Game (5K)_3 The gamblers below completely lost it when they saw what was happening, with supporters from both sides starting to hurl abuse at each other.

The situation soon escalated into a chaos of beer bottles flying all over the place.

Gamblers trying to duck out on their debts took advantage of the mayhem to attempt to snatch back their stakes, and the drunks, once they saw blood, got the idea to have a go at others.

Ladies screamed and ran around with their skirts hoisted up, while theft gangs from London’s East and West Districts seized the chance to make a killing.

If it weren’t for the fact that we had taken fifty guns that day and fired several rounds into the air, and that there was a relatively strong police presence, I’d wager that more people than just MacKay on the boxing ring would have ended up dead.

But even so, after the boxing match ended, we cops still came out of it with more than a few bruises, and a couple of unlucky fellows nearly got their heads split by bottles.”

Upon hearing this, Talleyrand laughed heartily, “It seems that boxing matches in London are even more lively than I imagined.

I suppose only such a sporting event could be this chaotic, right?”

Arthur, in a self-deprecating tone, replied, “Not exactly, there’s even worse than this.

Mr.

Talleyrand, are you familiar with the traditional Running of the Bulls festival in Staffordshire?”

“Running of the Bulls?

What’s that about?”

Arthur began to explain, “The Running of the Bulls is a rather old festival in Staffordshire, which could trace back hundreds of years.

Every November, several horny, injured bulls are released onto the streets, and villagers from dozens of villages gather to revel.

Almost every few years, fatalities occur.

The British Animal Welfare Association has always considered this festival a thorn in their side, and nearly every year they sue the organizers in court, claiming that the festival is inhumane to both people and the bulls.

However, the local sheriffs see the Running of the Bulls as a historical tradition of Staffordshire and have completely ignored the association’s complaints.”

Seeing that they couldn’t succeed in court, members of the Animal Welfare Association then joined forces with their old comrades—the clerics of the Wesleyan Church.

The clergy, too, were deeply abhorred by such practices and often worked strenuously with the Animal Welfare Association to combat bullfighting, cockfighting, and the like.

After a bull tossed members of the Animal Welfare Association and Wesleyan Church clerics into the air, Parliament finally resolved to eradicate the centuries-old malpractice of the Running of the Bulls.

The year before last when I had just joined Scotland Yard, I was fortunate to participate in that operation.

You may not believe it, but that day was quite a spectacle, with police, army, and even the cavalry and local sheriffs filling the streets.

Anyone who didn’t know better would have thought Britain had gone to war with France again.”

Talleyrand smacked his lips, “So, did you succeed in the end?”

Arthur shrugged helplessly, “Unfortunately, despite the parliamentary report describing the operation as a draw, in my eyes, it was quite a botched job.

The Parliament’s reinforcement plan triggered hostility among the locals, with peasants wielding pitchforks to clear the way for the bulls and wealthy farmers generously sponsoring several times more bulls than in previous years.

The Guard Cavalry lost three good horses, a few soldiers from the Fifth Royal Infantry Regiment nearly got tossed onto roofs, and with both cavalry and army ending up like that, we Scotland Yard cops could only direct traffic with our Civilization Canes.

Ultimately, according to records from Staffordshire, it is possible that year’s festival saw the worst casualties in decades.”

Talleyrand, now laughing uncontrollably, swirled his drink and asked, “So then, did Parliament compromise in the end?”

“You can’t say compromised; Sir Peel wouldn’t like such wording.”

Arthur scoffed, “After the fury, Sir Peel immediately called an emergency meeting with the Treasury.

The day after the meeting concluded, the Treasury proposed to Parliament a bill to levy an extra security tax of six pennies per pound of rent on homes in the Running of the Bulls’ host areas.

Moreover, the Treasury also threatened that if Staffordshire did not show willingness to improve the situation, the tax might well be raised in the future.”

At this, Talleyrand couldn’t help but laugh, “That solution is very British, I must say.

Since the tax was raised, I reckon the Running of the Bulls must have improved remarkably.”

Arthur nodded slightly, “You guessed right on that.

The scale of the Running of the Bulls has indeed been decreasing over the past two years.”

“Hmm…

it seems both boxing and the Running of the Bulls can be quite dangerous.

Aren’t there any more civilized sports?”

Arthur sipped his drink, “There are civilized ones too, like rowing, for instance.

Did you get a chance to see the Oxbridge boat race organized by Oxford and Cambridge these past years?

It’s held at the end of March or early April on the Thames River.

Also, there’s the horse racing popular all over Europe.

The annual Derby in June is also a major sporting event within Britain, with the number of spectators last year totaling over a hundred thousand along the route.

But I’d wager you’ve grown bored of watching races like that in Paris and they lack a sense of participation.

So, if you’re looking for a sport to pass the time, why not try golf today?

A friend of mine has been inviting me to practice at the Royal Blackheath Club.

If you don’t mind, we could detour to the Financial City now, bring him along, and provide you with some company.

What do you think?”