Modern day chicken rustling.

A few days ago, I was shopping in Sainsburys and noticed an alarming new security measure. In the fresh meat aisle, everything priced over £6.00 had a security tag on it, which meant that if it wasn't deactivated by a cashier at the checkout, you would set off a very loud alarm as you exited the building.

Now, I have heard horror stories from friends in the country who's chickens have gone missing. The usual suspects are ravenous foxes who decapitate the poor things, leaving a horrific mess of blood and feathers as their calling cards. But apparently, as the price of organic and free range meat increases, humans are at it too. Nipping over the back fence in the dead of night and helping themselves to a nice Sunday roast.

In Sainsbury's, a large, free range, organic, British chicken is now priced at an eye-watering £12, (that's $20 for my American friends). So more and more people are stealing them from supermarkets as well as country gardens, hence the new security. The lady at the checkout told me that hundreds of pounds worth of meat go unaccounted for, every single week. Blimey. But where do they put them? A leg of lamb is not small, nor is a juicy 2kg chicken. You can't just stuff it down your trousers and hope for the best.

In our latest heat wave, the residents of London are leaving very little to the imagination in terms of clothing. Crop tops and hot pants are hardly chicken rustling attire, so I can only think that our modern day meat thieves are pushchair-toting mums or modern day bohemians in very accommodating kaftans. Slipping raw poultry under your child's bottom would be the perfect smuggling diversion. No one would question a toddler having a screaming fit... it's an everyday occurrence in most supermarkets. They would never suspect the tantrum was caused by a squidgy cold chicken, shoved hurriedly, under their innocent derrières! Genius. As for kaftans (and burkas for that matter), they hide a multitude of sins. Wearing either, allows lumps and bumps to go unnoticed. Again, perfect for shoplifting.

I bought my chicken for £12 today, sweating slightly as I put it in my bag. I will feel great about it when I roast the damn thing though, won't I? I had the choice of a cheaper chicken, still free range but I know THIS chicken will be more amazing. From the beautifully written short story on the front of the label, I know it's had a wonderful life... running and jumping in green meadows, eating golden corn as the sun goes down behind leafy oak trees, scratching happily in the dirt until bedtime, and then snuggling down in their straw-lined nesting boxes, under the roof of a stunning custom-made coop, all in the wilds of a beautiful village in Wiltshire. Aaaah.

Happy, joyous, perky, yummy chicken. Now where's my damn kaftan?