Bang Bang

Being a very small prey, when I go hunting for quail I leave my sporting pieces back in the lodge and avail myself of one of those children's toys that fire discs of neoprene foam. The quail will eventually buckle and tire after dodging the viciously spinning pastel tinted projectiles and drop exhausted from the sky to be retrieved by my faithful heron, Prescott. He returns them, still stunned, to Raworth, my ghillie who despatches them expertly with his quail spoon. Unbruised, they make fine eating. Birds I wing live to fight another day.

Bearing this in mind, I am at a loss to understand why Dick Cheney should opt for the overkill of using powerful firearms against such an insignificant creature. The quail, although miniscule, is a pot bird and following an encounter with a 12 bore cartridge I am certain there would not be much left to cook. I am presuming that it is after repeatedly hitting the unfortunate birds but with little meat to show for his efforts, he decided to turn his weapon on his friend, Mr Whittington. It transpires that Mr Whittington was a very decent lawyer who, although a republican, campaigned on many causes in opposition to the government; not least sparing mentally ill criminals the death penalty in Texas.

I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions.