A Posh chap moved into the Big House next to the farm where the lads had permission to shoot woodies etc. A high woodie was shot and fell dead as a dodo on the posh chaps lawn where he is sitting. The shooter climbs the fence and walks to where the bird is laying, the posh chap states ' the bird is mine, it's on my land. The shooter says to the posh chap, you are new to this area and don't know the country ways, we always settle this sort of dispute with the three kick rule. Not wanting to appear ignorant he says he does know the rule and is quite happy to settle the argument over the ownership of the woodie that way. The shooter says that the person who shot the bird always gets to go first and the posh chap agrees.
The first kick catches the posh chap hard in the goolies and he goes down as if pole axed, the second kick to the stomach takes all the wind out of him, the third kick nearly takes his nose off. He lays on the ground for several minuites, then manages to get to his feet, right he says it's my go now.
Shooter as he walks away, you have the woodie mate.