What ho, hunters!
Great controversy in my part of the world, chaps. Sussex CCC used a marksman to kill a nuisance fox on the cricket square. Chap walked straight up to the wicket and slotted the bastard! Bloody good show! Of course, the usual lunatics are up in arms. All Brighton's pinkos, homos and bohos have been weeping in the streets. Sod 'em! The oiks had better get used to foxes being terminated with extreme prejudice because once the Tories are back in power it will be open season on the horrible little pests! No more loopholes and chicanery, just an out-and-out blood fest! I and all the bounders at the CL&C are salivating at the mere thought of it. Tally ho!
Yours, etc
Viscount Crouchback
I see that the argument for this is is that it's legal to shoot vermin.
Is it safe to assume then Milord that you sleep with your eyes open ?
Posted by: Ye Old Tossbag | 15 April 2010 at 02:10 PM
Impudent blighter. Be careful not to say that in my person or I will happily take a whip to you. Be away with you, scoundrel!
Posted by: Viscount Crouchback | 15 April 2010 at 03:45 PM
Is it also safe to assume that you sleep with your heart bleeding, Ye Old Tossbag?
Posted by: Lawrence | 15 April 2010 at 03:46 PM
Apologies Milord - not intented to invite a fornicational romp with whips as your poor, brow-beaten serf Lawrence looks on.
Posted by: Ye Old Tossbag | 15 April 2010 at 03:52 PM
Brow-beaten serf!?
Like-minded Gamekeeper, I'll have you know!
Posted by: Lawrence | 15 April 2010 at 04:14 PM
I suspect that Ye Old Tossbag sleeps with his eyes open for genocidal natives in the dark of the night, Lawrence. I think we have a Boer on our hands here. I believe the template for dealing with such specimens was set by Lord Kitchener a century ago. Indeed, I'd happily set up a concentration camp within the grounds of Crouchback Castle to teach the impudent swine a lesson, but I can't help thinking it a frightful waste of money. Perhaps our friend Julius will do the necessary one of these nights...
Posted by: Viscount Crouchback | 15 April 2010 at 04:33 PM
A devious quarry indeed, my Lord. I think that construction of an extermination may attract some unwanted attention but fear our feral friend, Julius, may warn this bleating boer of his presence by the scent of his armpits being carried down wind.
May I suggest we give your lordships hounds an early run before the Tories snatch back parliament and reinstate that most noble of pursuits.
Posted by: Lawrence | 15 April 2010 at 04:53 PM
Humblest apologies, my lord. Through my obvious lack of breeding, my last post included an inexcusable error. I failed to include the object noun: camp. That traditionally follows 'extermination'.
I shall be in the stables awaiting your whip. Like my father would do before me.
Posted by: Lawrence | 15 April 2010 at 05:05 PM
Ah yes, put a brandy-and-biltong soaked rag in front of the hounds nose and ask them to find the brute, eh! It could work, old sport. We'll snare this insolent cur yet.
Posted by: Viscount Crouchback | 15 April 2010 at 06:03 PM
' I shall be .... awaiting your whip. Like my father would before me ' ?
Was your father also a gimp Lawrence ?
Posted by: Ye Old Tossbag | 16 April 2010 at 03:54 PM
No, even worse. An accountant.
Which of your mothers many 'friends' is yours?
Posted by: Lawrence | 16 April 2010 at 04:11 PM