A quick death. Expect you'd rather some goat-****er was muttering bollox while he watched it slowly bleed to death.
I once found a dying rabbit at the side of a country lane near Battle. It was in agony, making the most pitiful, harrowing sound. I snapped its neck, which took a lot of resolve. I wept for an hour afterwards.
Exactly. Once we've finished cleaning up our country by deporting millions of cousins, we need to find somewhere to deport these indigenous cretins to. Is Cloud-cuckoo land a real place?
I did similar but all I had to hand was a cricket bat. Took a few blows. Felt so sorry for not being able to do it quicker.
A few years back I discovered I'd killed a mouse by squashing it with a box of books. The poor mite was as flat as a pancake. Gutted. I don't even kill flies.
It was over 18 years old and literally on it's last legs after a good life on the farm. He chose to end its suffering quickly and in the place it knew as home rather than take it to the vet, who would kill it all the same. They buried it in it's own plot, and shared a few wines in its memory. Far more humane than the suicide Bill Starmer's just shoved through, where they're quite liable to be burned in an industrial furnace afterwards.
A couple of years ago I came back from a holiday to find a dehydrated and very dead frog in the hallway. He probably wandered in a night or two before I went away. Another time found a young adult blackbird that had drowned in my pond.
