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Like in all sport in the 21st century it's time those who enjoy watching a day's game shooting started paying for the privilege. With escalating grain prices, last year's sloe gin stocks to replenish and the Brigadier's team not getting any younger, shoots need to create new revenue streams to cope with the unpredictable nature of the sport. While it is indeed a real joy for toddlers, teenagers and grandparents to come and watch Dad game shooting or Mum picking-up, the fact is that while standing around cooing, texting or bobbing around in need of the lavatory, these spectators are not doing anything of use. Therefore a tax will be levied on anyone who is classed as a "spectator" on the day's game shooting. A spectator will be charged a flat rate for attending the day's game shooting, with an additional charge of £1 every time they have to answer a call of nature or enjoy what used to be a friendly complementary cup of tea or something stronger. And, for another small fee, seating can be provided. But be careful to read the regulations on your ticket carefully as all spectators will be searched on arrival. No personal supplies of damson vodka or pork pie can be brought into the game shooting estate.
There's nothing worse than a gundog bore standing around you - you know the kind, those people who spoil the otherwise excellent reputation of pickers-up with their endless wafflings about their four-pawed companion. Apart from the reminders about faultless hip and eye scores while other pickers-up are trying to keep their eyes peeled, there are the thrice daily anecdotes about the dog's lineage - out of FTCh Blatherwick Wombat, a litter mate of FTCh Sheldrake Samson, and a distant relative of FTCh Dowhatthouwilt don't you know - plus the ludicrous claims about their acrobatic abilities - "he once retrieved a cock bird while it was still in the air." The fact is that the best pickers-up are the ones who just get on with it, so shoots now have the power to create a "bore bin" in which any picker-up will be positioned if deemed by their peers to be, well, boring them to tears. Offenders sit within a roped off area of the drive wearing a pheasant costume. Pick that, pooch.
Have you ever rolled your eyes when you've heard the expression: "He's one of the best shots in the county"? It's not surprising if you have, after all the people who spout this absurdity are usually related to/ being blackmailed by the alleged superstar, so there's bound to be some inflation of their reputation. But, if everyone knows someone who is "one of the best shots in the county," does that mean there are hardly any plain "good shots" out there these days? And who cares how good you are - shooting isn't all about the birds, so does the 'fact' that X can take 70-yarders using a .410 really mean anything? They might be dull as dishwater off the peg, or worse, a pretty good shot who struts around in elaborate garb just to get noticed. Anyone who therefore boasts that their pal is the shooting equivalent of James Bond will be asked to prove it. Should said gun not be able to smash 100 clays in a row before the off, for the duration of the shoot day his extoller will be required to wear a t-shirt bearing a right facing arrow and the legend: "He is not one of the best shots in the county."
Have you ever rolled your eyes when you’ve heard the expression: “He’s one of the best shots in the county”? It’s not surprising if you have, after all, the people who spout this absurdity are usually related to/being blackmailed by the alleged superstar, so there’s bound to be some inflation of their reputation. After all if everyone knows someone who is “one of the best shots in the county,” does that mean there are hardly any plain “good shots” out there? The top brass don’t care how good you are - shooting isn’t all about the birds, so does the ‘fact’ that X can take 70 yarders using a .410 really mean anything? They might be dull as dishwater off the peg, or worse, a pretty good shot who struts around in elaborate garb just to get noticed. Anyone who therefore boasts that their pal is the shooting equivalent of James Bond will be asked to prove it. Should said gun not be able to smash 100 clays in a row before the off, for the duration of the shoot day his extoller will be required to stand on the far left peg on every drive wearing a yellow bib bearing a right-facing arrow and the following legend: “Definitely not one of the best shots in the county.”
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