Activist: "The difference is nothing died for my dinner." Farmer: "What did you have?" Activist: "Rice, roast veg, hummus, a bit of bread. Oat milk in my tea." Farmer: "The rice." Activist: "Grown in a paddy." Farmer: "A flooded field, drained for harvest. Frogs, fish, snails, eels, all of it dies in the mud. Then the combine. The veg?" Activist: "Carrots, peppers, courgettes." Farmer: "Carrots are a ploughed field. I've ploughed. The gulls follow the tractor because of what comes up in pieces. Peppers and courgettes are a polytunnel. Slug pellets, and a hive of bees trucked in to pollinate them, then the hive's left to die at the end of the season because it's cheaper than feeding it. The hummus?" Activist: "Chickpeas." Farmer: "Sprayed with something to kill the plant so it dries evenly for the combine. I've done that too. Whatever's living in it dries out with it. Mice, voles, leverets, partridge chicks. Twelve miles an hour, a blade eight metres wide. The bread?" Activist: "...Wheat." Farmer: "Same field, same machine, plus the rats in the grain store and what's done about them. Your oat milk's the same again, with a factory on the end." Activist: "Those are all accidents." Farmer: "I've killed more voles with a plough than I ever have with a bolt gun, and I'm the one with the bolt gun. One bullock off that hill is one death and a year's dinners. Your plate's about forty and you didn't see any of them." Activist: "At least I didn't choose it." Farmer: "You chose to be the only one at the table who didn't know."