The painted apple moth caterpillar. Photo/File
I was sickened to hear that the Napier aquarium was selling fish and chips to their customers in plain view of the fish swimming in its tanks.
Bad enough that these fish had their animal rights trampled by having their freedom stolen, but to horrify them by serving up the mutilated bodies of their brothers and sisters to the uncaring public right in front of their eyes ... Immoral!
Then to insult them further by pouring salt over the deceased and battered fish in some kind of "from salt you came, to salt you will return" ceremony ... so unnecessary.
More power to PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) in this righteous struggle.
I was just gathering my breath from this upsetting news when Mr Marley Sativa of the Plant Liberation Front burst into my office and gave me the unwelcome news that another outrage had occurred to our non-human cousins.
A forester managing a pine forest in the hills above Taihape had committed what could only be seen as an unforgivable humanist atrocity - with his ute loaded with pine seedlings, he had carelessly driven into a sawmill where they were ripping a large rimu log.
"I could hear those poor little seedlings screaming in terror, Chris," he wept. "The ghastly sight of their hallowed ancestor being dismembered was in full view of the infant Pinus radiata.
"Why were they so callously exposed to this charnel house of wanton butchery?" he whimpered, wringing his hands with helpless desperation. "I could smell their fear".
With his pain starting to get the better of me, I tried to distract him. I spoke louder as we walked over a parquet floor hoping he wouldn't hear the sound of his sandals on the hard wood.
But he did hear; his knuckles turned white and he stopped, closed his eyes, and began chanting under his breath. An incantation to Gaia, the Earth Mother.
A cold sweat broke out on my brow as I thought about the wooden house I lived in. Had the trees been killed humanely? Did any of the house paints offend their dignity?
Then my mind went to the wood-burner taking pride of place in our lounge and I lost all hope of ever meeting the ethical standards of the Plant Liberation Front. Surely to the PLF that would be akin to enjoying a "snuff porn movie". I kept my thoughts to myself.
"Don't try to talk me out of this, comrade," he cried, pulling a container from the folds of his kaftan. Inside were several winged insects that I recognised as adult painted apple moth (Teia anartoides).
"You may call them moths, but I call them freedom fighters. Unless these outrages against the plant kingdom cease immediately, I will release my little freedom fighters into the middle of St John's Hill."
Veins protruded on his forehead, and froth appeared at the sides of his mouth.
"Hey, Marley," I said calmly. "I've got a better idea - it's election year and we need minds like yours in Parliament. If you stand for election, you're bound to get in on the list."
He stopped dead and looked at me in wonderment. "Of course - with my commitment, I can't miss, can I?"
By then I was thinking about another kind of commitment, but I just smiled and nodded my head. He handed me the moths.