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SPORTING SHOOTER - JULY
My orders are to
write something about the Game Fair. I am so well trained and conditioned
to obey orders that I sometimes think that I would have made a good
addition to the Waffen SS – indeed there are people who believe
that I WAS a member of the Waffen SS. So in spite of the fact that it
is an artic day in early April, I will write something about the Game
Fair. I have never volunteered to go to a Game Fair but have only acted
under orders from some organisation or publication. ‘Zue Befehl’
I cry and give my jack boots an extra polish. I am assuming that the
Game Fair in question is the CLA, or, as we must now call it the Country
Land and Business Association –CLABA – an interesting acronym
there. I believe it means something absolutely disgusting in Irish Gaelic.
I am minded of when Newcastle Poly got up itself and became the City
University of Newcastle on Tyne – until someone worked out the
acronym. But back to the Game Fair – I first attended as part
of a forlorn hope party to man a stand for the Masters of Foxhounds
Association. We were securely caged on site and all day large men in
tweeds pushed Cymag laced buns through the bars at us. At various times,
I have been despatched to report for various sporting magazines and
even national dailies. I even went to give a commentary for a comely
wench who drove ducks round the ring with sheep dogs and if you ask
if there is anything that I will not do for money? The answer is No.
By this time you may have twigged that I do not really enjoy Game Fairs.
They are either too hot or too wet. I am minded of the one I went to
in the Borders in a monsoon. At 0700, they were towing cars into the
car park. By 0900, the walkways were reduced to an approximation of
the trenches on the Somme. Ladies in fashionable, but unsuitable shoes
were hobbling about with bin bags tied round their legs and several
persons of restricted stature were ‘missing, presumed drowned’;
rather like the string of dead sheep that floated serenely down the
river. I was relieved when I had to leave early to file my copy.
Amongst the reasons
that make people flock to Game Fairs are the stands. There you can buy
just about any gizmo, or widget, that has the slightest relevance to
Field Sports and a great many more that do not. These stands are a ‘snare
and a delusion’. I have yet to go to a Game Fair from which I
have not staggered away, laden down with gear that I had never heard
of, let alone ever thought of buying and which, very likely, I shall
never use.
Ah well, off you
go to the Game Fair and enjoy yourselves. You won’t see me there
– unless I’m paid to go, of course.
