Pursuant to the post below, I have to talk about something I’ve kept hidden for a long time.

I have a genetic disorder. It’s rare, but it’s probably common amongst my readers. You, gentle reader, might have it too.

I cannot drive or walk past a sign that says “GUNS”.

This horrible disorder affects my every waking and sleeping hour. The longing for fine double rifles, the lust for old automatics, the dreams about the designs of John Moses Browning… it’s all too much to deal with every day.

Imagine the disapointment, every time I walk into a gun store and don’t walk out with a pristine Browning A-5 in Sweet Sixteen, or the sorrow I feel at having a largely inadequate gun cabinet, or the pain of not owning a brace of fine cased shotguns by Purdey or Holland & Holland.

Do something now before it’s too late. Millions suffer from this horrible disorder, and there is no cure. Imagine as the Oglet grows older, knowing that her father will always long for, but never own, the 470 Nitro Express that Merkel showed off at the Shot show.

Give till it hurts. And don’t forget the ammo.