Saturday (I don't want to blog about politics) Night.

I blogged earlier (Cant be bothered finding the link, sorry) that my shotgun licence had been approved. I got a bit of cash together this afternoon and went to a gun shop, the next town over.
Now I've never bought a gun before, and considering the swings and roundabouts it took to get the licence, I imagined the same kind of thing to buy a firearm. I got tooled up with licence and many forms of identification and stuff, and set off.

I asked the baseball cap bedecked guy behind the counter what was involved in buying a shotgun. His response was, "cash and a licence". He then loaded a blank round in a small revolver and shot his pal with it.
Once my ears had stopped ringing I had a look through the selection of second hand, cheap weapons and bought a single barrel 12 gauge and fifty rounds of pigeon shot.
At sixty quid including a cleaning kit, it's perfect for a bit of practice before I consider buying anything decent.

The most surprising thing about the shop was the two semi auto machine guns on display on the back shelf and the assortment of handguns available.
I was under the impression all kinds of handguns had been banned and I never thought machine guns were ever legal. Either my understanding of the facts is off other them guns just weren't what they seemed. It's possible the handguns were air weapons but the machine guns certainly weren't.

They also had a huge stock of very nice looking air rifles. One customer was trying one out. No they didn't have a proper target range with a backstop. He was firing at a pair of stepladders with a cushion sellotaped to the top.

Having never set foot in a gun shop before, my impressions of what I might find were way off the mark, I"ll tell ya!

Anyway, I got what I went for. Does anyone have any good recipies for rabbit?



On another theme, I went to the pub with Mrs Bucko for a few games of pool last night. There was a local boob in there called Malcolm. He's a proper care in the community type, but he's harmless and friendly.

He saw us when we walked in and said, "Heelloo Buuckoo, Heellooo, Mrs Buuckoo." Imagine the voice? No? Well I tried.
He then said, "Some women will put a ferret up your trousers, no problem, I'll tell you the truth".
I don't know where that came from but, "I'll tell you the truth" is something of a catchphrase for Malcolm.

That's why I can never take him seriously. Me and Mrs Bucko used to play for a local pool team. I remember one match. It was 4 games each and the decider was on. Everyone in the pool room was deadly silent and concentrating on the game. One chap was just lining up an important shot when Malcolm walked through on his way to the toilet. He said, quite loudly,

"It's been fifty five years now and I've never shit myself once, I'll tell you the truth".

Everybody erupted in uncontrollable laughter.

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