Visitors to my mansion have often admired the trophy case of stuffed water-fowl above my mantel-piece. They ask if I shot the bird myself in the days before such affronts to ecology were made illegal or whether it resulted from road-kill. I have to confess that I took advantage of an auction of the fittings of one of the too many recently closed local public houses.
Yes, I bought it in a bar coot sale.
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