Mangled Thoughts

The Oz `Gun Laws’ must be struck down.

Some friends had a pleasant evening a few days ago. A burglar visited them, arriving by way of over the backyard fence. He, ventured into the garden and the burglar coshed him on the head. She, inside, heard, rather like the Goon show - `Ow’ , the goons would add, `…me nut, mate’.

An ambulance had to cart him off to hospital. Lying on a bed, the doctor mused whether to sew the calp back together or not. pal cracked a reply, `So, you’ll aquadere the sking together.’ Doc gave him a studied look as if the blow had sent him slightly gaga, and reply, `perhaps we’d better stitch it back together right now.’

Point is, it could have been worse, far worse. Secondly, it was only one burglar:

My friend is tall but slight of build and his wife, a will-o’- the-wisp of gal, particularly against a heavily built, fit, young scumbag.

No matter a chap’s willingness to defend hearth and wife, most burglars these days are fit, young thugs, and not the old timers, portly, slow and averse to coshing.

It’s o.k taking them on when one is young, I did once,two of them when I was in my early twenties. For a peculiar reason, I’d decided to keep a 4×4 under my bed on the off- chance and, blimme, one evening, enjoying a nice read, I heard the wrong noise. 4×4 in hand, I moved silenlty and took them by surprise. What I treated them to was far better than, if they could have been identified and arrested by police, would be dealt to such types in court, a quack of a character witness reducing Judge and Jury to tears by relating how badly they were oppressed as children, because their parents refused to by them bubble gum, and the Judge’s verdict guilty matched by the heady sentence of a kiss on the cheeks and a cautionary.

Being older and not so agile and muscular, the prospect of taking out a couple of toughs without a handgun doesn’t appeal. One does not fancy, for example, tucked up in bed, being surprised by two scumbags dropping in by their favoured entrance, through the roof. I wouldn’t fancy, either, being confronted during the day by nasty, big, fit, violent scumbags without a handgun these days, let alone at night resting in bed.

If that 80 year old granny was free to carry a hand gun in her handbag, and had trained to use it efficiently, instead of being dealt blows and being dragged on the ground, those three big fit scumbags would, instead, have been rolling on the ground in considerable pain or, better, still and stone cold dead.

Police come after the fact, they don’t prevent crimes. I want a handgun, I want to do as those in the U.S. gun-toting states do, train at a firing range under instruction so as to weild it nervelessly and acquire the right reflexes and gun handling control. I want to have not an edge, but the advantage, I want to be able to eliminate their advantage, they have the momentum which is eliminated when they stare down a barrel or, because there may be no time to warn them first - `stop, or I shoot, down on the floor, hands on your neck’, are lying on the floor shot. I want that advantage, I do not wish to be coshed by scumbags, and not just in the house either, at best or, even sent on the one way trip to the morgue.

He was lucky. He only endured split skin and a long line of stitches, along the centre of his scalp.

Funny thing, the scumbag took a fine haul of: nappy san; laundry granulated detergent; sundry agents stored in the laundry . Cleaning agents?!