This is the Guardian.

Today, the hidden costs of the cheap chicken on your dinner plate.

So I walk into this shed, which is not a shed by normal standards.

So we're some of that.

We're sort of the middle of some of that.

Longer than a jumbo jet.

I think he points about three miles that way.

Almost as wide, big high roof, really, really hot,

32.9 degrees.

Full of little yellow sort of tennis ball size, three-day old chicks,

17,000 of them, that are running around in crowds,

sort of follow each other, some in the corners.

But the floor is just full of a sea of yellow fluff.

So with a farmer who owns this shed, guy called Simon Barton

and one of the first things he tells me,

as we walk in, is to shuffle around rather than to step,

because you can imagine the chicks are that small.

It would be quite easy to squash one.

17,000, it's a lot of birds, isn't it?

Yes, it's enough birds in that one shed that you can't see them all.

You can't get your head around how many there are.

And so I did some mathematics with this to get a sense of how long it would take us

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