It was me or him
I am not proud of this at all, I am deeply sorry but at the time it was a case of survival.

I grew up in the country, And did a whole matter of countryside pastimes including Shooting.

One evening I went out for some dusk Pigeon shooting, catching them as they come into roost is always a good plan.
After a few hours blasting away the wildlife I headed home. At some point the heavens opened and it pissed it down on me.
Cold and wet I decided to take a short cut across a different farmers land.
As I crossed the final field about half a mile from the warmth of my home I heard a loud angry shout of.
"I have told you fucking Gypsie cunts before, stop poaching on my land"
It was the game keeper a nasty old cunt at the best of times and proud owner of the bigest nastiest wolf-like creature you can imagine.
Before I could plead my innocence that I was niether a Gypsie or a poacher he set the thing on me.
I damn near shit myself as the ball of teeth and hate came bounding towards me with the soul intention of fucking me up.
I started to run but realised that was stupid, so I turned leveled my rifle and shot the dog in the head.... Twice.
Then ran for my fucking life.
I have never told a soul about this, the game keeper blamed the gypsies and they were evicted by an angry mob from the pub that same night.
(Barry Chuckle has gone out in the thong to feed the pigeons, Wed 30 Nov 2005, 13:27, Reply)