BlackA rifle shot
FARMER: Got 'im
Lights up on FARMER with a sack.
FARMER: I got the bugger. He was always playing tricks on me. He stole my morning's milk. He killed my hens. The little bastard would whisper to me at night.
REPORTER: Can you be sure it was really him?
FARMER: How can I be sure? Can I be bloody sure?
FARMER reaches into sack and pulls out a bundle of fur.
He tosses it at the reporters' feet.
FARMER: I'm pretty bloody sure,
REPORTER [toeing fur]: It looks like a mongoose.
FARMER: What are you? An idiot? It looks like it because it is! You can tell.
REPORTER 2: Yes, it looks like a mongoose, but is it Gef?
FARMER: It weren't singing a rude limerick but this is Gef.
REPORTER: You murdered Gef?
FARMER: It's a mongoose!
REPORTER: A talking mongoose. Literally a miracle. And you shot him.
FARMER: You can get off my farm and all, you can. Go on, sod off. I removed a pest and that's all I'm going to say. You bastards of the fifth estate can go whistle for more more from me. You don't have to put up with the singing and the dancing,. all of the sightseers leaving the gates open and trampling the crops all in the hope of seeing some sodding pest. And according to you, you little oik, I've killed one talking bastard already. So, there he is. Satisfied? I'll stuff the bugger and use him as a door stop. Now clear off the lot of you.***
The Farmer is fairly foulmouthed in a very british '3 Bs' way. I imagine that the Gef tourism industry was still in play a decade after the initial uproar. I've really wonder about this guy (I have his name in my research docs) that he felt the need to alert the media to his kill, also the idea that he killed a creature as unique as Gef. He's cashing in to an extent. Spurred by damage to his property, the loss of privacy and, possibly, the realisation that the farm is hard work, located as it was high up among the rocks.
I doubt that Gef was even there to torment the guy, let alone there to be shot. He'd moved on to parts unknown.