This Wednesday in parliament, to be hastily debated without public input, there’s a proposed amendment to the foxhunting laws (basically, the return to packs to flush the fox, in line with Scottish law).

The first thing to note is how remarkably confident, perhaps even omnipotent, the Tories must be feeling, post-election. Here they are, attempting to undermine an act that a majority of the British public wanted. These would be ordinary people, who wouldn’t care if, for instance, prior to the election, prominent Tories stood on faded rugs, in grand houses, secretly promising amendments/“stealth” repeals (however they wish to term it), should they get in.

Nor is anybody accepting this “you townies don’t understand countryside folk” guff anymore. I grew up in the countryside. I wandered around bluebell woods as a child, dodged horse muck in the roads. I know what a stile is and that dyke has another meaning apart from being slang for lesbian. I climbed into disused piggeries with my friends and stared at walls stained rust-coloured with blood and at holes in the floor, where pigs were thrown after slaughter.

I didn’t just pop to the country for a cream tea and a bracing inhalation of manure – I grew up there and knew people of different classes and ages (as you do, in the country). Yet I never knew anyone who hunted, was pro-hunting, fitted in any way the tally ho caricature or who complained about townies not understanding their way of life, in the manner of straw-chewing yokels straight from central casting.

This has always been the first fallacy – that the countryside is different. As I’ve written before, no, it isn’t, not really, and certainly not where being exempt from the law is concerned. On this note, are the persistent complaints about hunt-law flouting going to be (finally) addressed in parliament this week?

Here’s a suggestion I’ve made before: if hunts are confident that they’re law-abiding, why don’t they simply allow representatives from animal charities to join the hunts to confirm that the rules are being upheld?

Let’s clear up some other “misunderstandings”. I keep hearing about “wildlife management” (pest control, disease, protecting vulnerable species, biodiversity). It all sounds very civilised and lovely in a Born Free kind of way. However, if it’s about keeping numbers down, what explains this business about foxes being bred for hunts? Moreover, with wildlife management, who decided that the best way forward was a pack of (slathering, wound-up) dogs and what amounts to a fancy dress party on horseback?

As for the somewhat fatigued “tradition” argument: some people used to enjoy cockfighting – should we bring that back too? It seems to me that this much-vaunted love of tradition comes and goes, and rather arbitrarily too.

Then we come to the craziest pro-hunting argument of all – that it’s not just about toffs, there’s a “mix” of people doing it. Well sorry, it is about toffs, people who delude themselves that they’re toffs, or pathetic types who crave the company of toffs (need it be pointed out yet again that just the price of the kit is prohibitive?). Even if there is a “blend of different people”, who cares? Would crowds at an illegal dogfight be meticulously perused to check that there was an agreeable enough class mix?

Toffs, plebs like me (and possibly you) … it’s irrelevant. Not only is foxhunting a cruel, unacceptable throwback practice, the vast majority of citizens have made their dislike for it clear. If the Conservatives promised a select group that they would push through this amendment, and will now attempt to do so, what is this if not brazen contempt for British people? To repeat, the government has to accept that this is a law that the public is actively, emotionally invested in. Openly, or by stealth, it will not be repealed so easily.

Why is there all this stick for the selfie-obsessed?

Tourists take a selfie near the Pyramid of the Louvre Museum in Paris. Photograph: Charles Platiau/Reuters

Every so often, famous people, who by definition are photographed a lot, express dislike for selfies. Benedict Cumberbatch called selfies “a tragic waste of engagement”. This echoes Cannes film festival director Thierry Frémaux, who branded them “ridiculous and grotesque”.

Obviously selfies can be highly irritating, but the constant criticisms are also starting to grate. If selfie sticks cut out tourists needing people to take snaps of them, where’s the real harm? And while some people become worryingly addicted to selfies (we’ve already seen your toned tummy – it’s very nice, now please put it away), for others, it’s akin to harmless self-papping – either as a celebrity lark (as with the Ellen DeGeneres Oscars selfie) or as a way for a non-celebrity to feel special for a moment.

Perhaps sometimes it’s healthier. At least selfie-takers seem happier to be their own personal celebrity rather than obsessing over red carpet strangers. So, yes, selfie-culture can be annoying, even toxic at times (there’s a trend for taking selfies in dangerous situations). However at least these people are taking themselves seriously, rather than fantasising over famous people they don’t actually know.

Billionaires wed – what’s not to love?

Nicky Hilton leaves Claridges Hotel for her wedding to James Rothschild at Kensington Palace, London, on 10 July 2015. Photograph: Rex Shutterstock

James Rothschild of the banking dynasty has just married Nikki Hilton of the hotel dynasty. Tatler must have spontaneously combusted in all the excitement – just a damp sooty patch and a pile of staples left. By rights, this news should make oiks such as myself want to throw up into a bucket, but, as it happens, they are so ridiculously rich that it becomes rather funny.

I’m imagining the wedding guests being forcibly dipped in gold and rolled in emeralds as they arrived. Specially trained doves scattering £50 notes into the crowds.

In fact, I’d quite like to have gone. Nice day out, bit of hobnobbing (“Ciao, Nat, old bean”), I would have fitted in a treat, until they found me stuffing my bra with the tiny packets of Love Heart sweets you always get at weddings.

It makes perfect sense for a Rothschild to marry a Hilton. As part of a billionaire dynasty, it must get stressful trying to find someone who isn’t after you for your money.

Let’s face it, most of us would be. Then, one member of a billionaire dynasty locks eyes with a member of another billionaire dynasty and magically all doubts are washed away, as if in the slipstream of one of those tacky-looking super-yachts that wealthy people are always trailing about on, faces like smacked backsides, looking as bored and horrified as though they were enduring a leaky tent in Skeggy.

Mind you, maybe this theory doesn’t work. Arguably the rich are the most avaricious of the lot (explaining how they got rich); they are built for greed. So, despite being incredibly rich, there’s a high probability that they would still marry for money. One hopes such issues (“Are you marrying me for EVEN MORE money?”) didn’t spoil the happy day.