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Guns:
I love my guns, I do.
I shoot L98 5.56mm military rifles (manual cocking SA80 British assault rifle) with the Air Trainig Corps, and I love to fire 7.62mm (.308cal.) target rifles (they'm is blummin' powerful)
My mate Gav Roseveare (extreme homophobic) is also as obsessive about guns as I am, and he's got shotguns 'n' all, and us two go off shooting an' killing shit.
Me, Police & guns:
Ok, I once bought an air rifle (cheap one, but quite good) and my step brother Danny & I would often go out shooting in the fields (he had an air pistol). We'd always have a few kills each (blackbirds, pigeons, pheasants, etc.) and it was a great laugh.
I'd often fire this rifle of mine in my back garden to sight it up, and I'd put targets up on the wooden fence (now this is important). Our neighbour has a pathway which leads to her garden running behind this fence, and the fence was about 6ft high and 5mm or-so thick. Now one night, ages after I had last fired this rifle, me, Danny and a few of my other mates from the village (there's only 2) were causing some ruckas down at the bowls club (there is shag-all to do at night in the winter, and the bowlers piss us off 'cause they hate us skateboarding on their empty car park - oh no!) and my mum's car swung into the park. I shat myself and hid (we thought we were in trouble for pissing the bowlers off), then me and Danny legged it home to face our imminent doom, only to see a pig car outside our house! (oh shit, oh shit, I've just filled my pants). Thinking fast, we made up a story to say we were out of the village that night, but the pig wasn't there to talk about the bowlers. He took my air rifle and all it's ammo 'cause he thought I shot the neighbours "Indian silk robe". Bolloks, I just shot her purple pants. Oh, well, just wait 'till I get a shotgun...