Shooting Weekend

David is invited to go on a shooting weekend in the country. Before going he goes to a very expensive shop and buys all the gear, then sets out in his car, gun at the ready. In the heart of the countryside, before he gets to his destination, he spies a plump, juicy looking pheasant in a field. He stops the car, gets out the gun and blows it to smithereens. Just as he's picking up his pheasant, a farmer appears.

"That'll be moine, that will," he says.

"What do you mean?" asks David. "I shot it."

"But it landed on moi land. I'll tell you what, we'll settle this the country way. "I'll give you a good kick in the you-know-whats, you do the same to me and whoever's still standing can keep the pheasant."

"Fair enough," says David, confident of this pain threshold.

"OK then," says the farmer. "Oi'll go first." With that, he takes a running start and kicks David right in the crown jewels. David doubles over in pain, but remains standing.

"OK," he says, his voice a fraction higher. "My turn."

"No, don't worry about it, moi lad," says the farmer. "You keep the pheasant."

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