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I want to talk about the ortolan scene.

If there is a single dish that has come to symbolise humans’ willingness to eat other animals out of existence, it is the ortolan bunting.

In the inevitable cannibalism sprees that tend to break out among families like the Roys, the nice ones tend to be roasted and eaten first, and with the gusto of a gourmand devouring an ortolan.

Four species were in the worst trouble: the ortolan bunting, the ruff, the golden oriole and the greenfinch.

They had, it was murmured, dined like kings, eating turtle soup and ortolans, washed down with bottle upon bottle of champagne.