Thursday has become the night to fire arrows at pictures of seemingly innocent animals perversely on display some fifteen metres away. Do not ask me what it is, exactly, that the animals have ever done to me, or anyone else for that matter, but such is the atmosphere at the archery range; there is an undertone that whatever gets a pointed shaft in it at the opposite end has wholeheartedly deserved it.
Some gentlemen next to me quipped that it would have been good to start up some sort of terrorist cell right then and there. I thought about this for approximately two seconds before I realised that, indeed, the only thing that I would be able to terrorise would be large wool bails with paper targets on them. Even then, the wool bail would soon discover that if it covered it’s entire surface with a paper target it would be perfectly safe from me. It is not too hard to imagine though that there is some barn with a broad-side that just broke a slight sweat at the thought of me using my marksmanship skills for evil, although I admit, it would have to have a decidedly big broad-side.
I presume that the afore mentioned archer with aspirations of martyrdom expects anti-terrorist agencies would perhaps target weapons of a slightly less primitive nature than that of the humble bow and arrow. Although, after seeing what some of the models on display do to their intended targets when wielded by people of a significantly higher calibre than myself, I would be delighted if the UN weapon inspectors would include compound-bows on their list of prohibited weapons in Iraq, lest one of those rumoured practitioners of terror put me on their list of important international targets. It’s not hard to believe that they would have reason to be annoyed at a Greek, considering that we are responsible for this whole western civilization thing.
Speaking of such matters, this week my in-box spawned some recently unclassified intelligence images which appear to me to be straight off the desk of some nameless official at the Pentagon. Whilst most people would consider the content of these photos to be quite damning, I thought that there was something not quite right about them. So being the free-thinking individual that I am, during a recent sojourn in the Middle East, I took the opportunity to have a brief walk through an unusually lush area of the Jordan–Iraq border to investigate the situation for myself. What I found there was, to grossly under-exaggerate, disturbing. I only managed to take a depressingly few images before I was forced to flee — I certainly wasn’t expecting to bump into the man himself.
Now I really know that the world has been far too optimistic in their dealings with Saddam, for he has a truly spectacular arsenal — just ask any Italian plumber.