About a year ago I was sent to France to photograph some French chickens. Free-roaming, special-breed, kinda cool French chickens. I went, I photographed. I cuddled a few of them. Took some nice chicken portraits. It was great. Stayed in a beautiful hotel, was fed an amazing meal and was plied with a lot of fantastic French wine. No-one warned me that I was going to be woken up at 5am the next morning to go to the abattoir to watch them all be slaughtered. I’m sorry, chickens.