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SHOOT DAY AT YP'S


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The following is an extract from a review in this week's installment of "The Sporting Correspondent"

 

Our intrepid correspondent "Hammergun" was invited to sample the pleasures of the chase in deepest Yorkshire, and has provided us with this interesting account of the day's sport:

 

It came to my attention some weeks ago that a sporting excursion into the depths of the windswept environs of Pontefract was to be held. The visit was to be held at the estate of that renowned sportsman, His Grace the Duke of Pudding, in pursuit of that noble sporting bird, Columba palumbus. Having been otherwise engaged in a different sporting activity on the Saturday, arrangements were undertaken for my arrival early on the Sunday. I arrived at half past eight, as instructed, only to find that His Grace was delayed, supposedly due to the effects of the previous night’s excesses. Arriving some ten minutes late, rather worse for wear, he instructed me to follow him to a very windy spot alongside the carriageway. Later questioning revealed that apparently there had been some altercation with the proprietor of the previous night's lodgings regarding extensive flooding and structural damage caused the previous night by a certain member of the party.

:P

I duly laid out the decoys, and things were looking up, as within 10 minutes, a large flock of pigeons descended onto the pattern, and one was taken with each barrel. Shortly afterwards, a dubious looking character wearing what appeared to be a camouflaged gimp mask began some questionable activity in the hedge back, which, much to my relief turned out to be nothing more than the erecting of a hide. A lone pigeon flew into my decoys, and was duly attended to, but the concentration was suddenly interrupted by another character, who after some cursing and mentioning something about stolen birds, disappeared southbound, apparently vowing to return one day for revenge. Beating a hasty retreat from the situation, I returned to my vehicle for refreshment and was greeted by the welcoming sight of a waiting pizza van.

:D

Thinking the His Grace had generously arranged the provision of some hot sustenance to offset the effects of the extreme Pontefract climate, I approached, only to find THE SNIPER- a somewhat dapper looking swell, attired in breeks, stockings and brogues - who, after assessing the situation and seeing the somewhat intoxicated condition of the present incumbents decided to retreat to one of his trusted shooting haunts (the location of which, he appeared unwilling to divulge, lest unwelcome attention from marauding ruffians curtail his own shooting interests).

:lol:

Needless to say, I returned to my hide, only to find that the wind had increased to such strength as to blow the netting off the bottom pegs, not to mention upset any decoys which had not been substantially anchored to the ground. I set off in search of some suitable boulders to place at the bottom, and once in place, I waited again with shotgun at the ready. However, perhaps due to the prevailing conditions, or perhaps even more likely due to the repellant effects of the alcoholic vapours emanating from certain other members of the party, further pigeons failed to appear, and with only a special guest appearance of a solitary seagull, presumably returning with a full belly from the local landfill site (otherwise referred to as "Pontefract"), the host suggested that attentions be turned towards a modest cover some mile or so hence.

:P

Myself and the other member of the party deposited our vehicles at Pudding Towers, His Grace's ancestral seat, and after a brief journey were set down at a field leading to a bare ash planting, where assurances were made about the inevitable large flocks which passed overhead in the afternoon. However, Columba palumbus failed to put in an appearance, and after a couple of hours, the group mutually agreed to retire to the local ale-house, with our sizeable bag of one-and-half brace each. (Fortunately, the landlord of the establishment did not appear to be present, and therefore no cursing over the previous night’s activities had to be endured.) After some refreshment, I bid my leave and commenced my journey North.

:yp: :P:lol::lol:

(Seriously YP- It was a fun day, and thanks for arranging it!)

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Moi ?....little moi Col Pol ?.......never have a go at you mate :D

 

I will second and third the above about Yp.......sorry Quazi...... for organizing this weekend. I was unable to make it on Saturday, daytime, but I did meet up with everyone on the Saturday night.....brilliant. I met ernyha,BTMS,Quazimodo ( Formerly the man known as YP) mark adams and what was the name of that other ****** who hangs monkeys :lol: Plus on the Sunday I met Pigeon watchs own David Bailey ( well he likes to take photos of rabbits guts ) ...Hammergun.

 

Hammergun...well written story mate. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

 

For those who weren't there...you missed a good time. I'm told there might be another in the summertime Quazi :yp:

 

By the way Hammergun...... I got 13 and the bloody hide nearly flew off.

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I feel I must offer a little refute to our learned friend hammergun (I feel I should come clean re the "flooding") it was nothing to serious? a few space heaters some plaster, oh and carpet would have you thinking nothing happened,

as for the second day in wind conditions that bordered on the perilous,I thought I did rather well? on three occasions I acted with great fortitude! and held on bravely to the contents of my stomach cant understand what caused this "unsettling" was a quiet night 40 pints a couple of bottles of house red most of a 75cl bottle of laphroiag and a pie? perhaps the pie was off? either way, in the most hazardous of conditions my decoy pattern proved irresistable yet again, and pigeon were seen to fall from the sky, er albeit infrequently

still enjoyed it and the continental breakfast TOAST? no bacon in yorkshire?

yis kdubya

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:lol: As we go through the week and my head is getting clearer, i remember the nights entertainment for Brian,Mark and myself starting before we even left the boarding house.

We knocked Keith's door at the pre-arranged time to go to the pub and he had us laughing within minutes.

Try and picture the scene as he described it.

 

He was standing in his clean shirt and underpants, all the contents of his overnight bag strewn over the bed and giving someone at the other end of his mobile a right earbashing.

Now i am unable to put the conversation on the net as i would be blacklisted for offensive language so i will give a shortened, heavily censored printable version of his phone call.

 

"Darling, after conducting an extensive search of my bag, it would appear that you have forgotten to pack my trousers."

 

That was the start of a great evenings entertainment. :yp: :P

:D

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Ernyha,

 

You appear to be adopting the classic battle stance of the Zulus by attacking me on two sides...you old ******.....on here and on Photos. :lol::lol:

 

I can't chuffing wait. :P

 

But as they say "Often imitated, but never matched !!" :lol:

 

6'4" of coiled steel will have his revenge :D:lol: :yp:

Thats some coiled steel that has lost its luster......and some of its spring.... :P:P:lol:

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Guest flightline

This has got to be the bestest PW thread ever! Thanks YP for your generosity and sportsmanship, as well as all posters and participants-sounded a real riot. Pl put me down for the next one whenever/wherever it is! Any offers BTW? And how do I subscribe to HG`s magazine? :D<_<:angry:

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