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March 29, 2006

Hunting Life: How to acquire a suitable (i.e. rich) wife on the hunting field

Posted by Jorocs

What can a young man do who wishes to lead a life of happiness and indolence but who does not have the necessary financial resources? Easy - find a suitable wife on the hunting field, suggests Jorocs. What is more, Jorocs offers an easy to follow plan of action and highlights the pitfalls which must be avoided.

Although the Hunting Act of 2005 banned all hunting of quarry species by hounds, your hunting correspondent notes that currently a form of hunting is still commonplace in the mounted field.

It has long been accepted by young gentleman that the route to acquiring a wife is through the hunting field. How many mothers have chased Amanda or Miranda around pony club courses screeching and beseeching to the point of tears, that they must acquire a good seat, be able to rise to a trot and extend the correct leg? This is to ensure that one day they will be able to take their place in the hunting field. This marriage market is for those who have money.

For any young man wishing to acquire a future life of happiness and indolence, but lacking the necessary finance, he must find the right girl or "gel". His own lack of economic means must not stand in the way. Any decent riding school should be able to provide him with the basic equestrian skills to get him across the country. Once reasonably accomplished, it is not necessary to acquire expensive hunters; in fact the more difficult the ride is, the greater the courage he can demonstrate. Then it is time to implement the plan.

First choose the correct category of potential wife. Those from small, wet, muddy dairy farms should be left to failed RAC riffraff and veterinary students. Unless one wants to be left milking cows, one should aim for the daughter of a large arable farmer, preferably with a well stocked chalk stream for those lazy summer days when a bout of fishing is as much as a man can muster. The close proximity to a racecourse and indeed a polo pitch would be preferable as would a motorway connection. It is important to be perusing Debretts rather than Who's Who?

Next, and most importantly, one must ensure that the nickname of the chosen quarry is socially acceptable. Could you stand in a crowded London theatre foyer with the screeching tone of friends acknowledging your wife as Floppy, Bonk or Tiddles? I kid you not, they do exist.

Having sorted out the category of size and location of the family farm, the discerning gentleman will have cause to look at the build of his intended wife. Hopefully those with thighs large enough to crack walnuts, chins wide enough to balance beer glasses and arms thick enough to throw bullocks fifty yards, together with voices that cause buildings to subside, will fall into the wet, muddy farm category. These stalwart ladies have been producing sons of soil and toil for centuries. Of course the ones to go for are from large land owning families with inheritances way above and beyond their land values with a good geographic location and fine cheek bones. Slim of leg and thigh, they probably won't have a bust due to centuries of wet nurses obliterating the needs of breast feeding. Do not be alarmed that at every social function they will be surrounded three deep by posturing chinless wonders. Never fear, the cavalier has a plan.

Quietly track the chosen quarry in the hunting field and seize the opportunity on the approach to a particularly large hedge. At point of take-off one should be just behind or beside the intended and emit an enormous shriek which you later accuse her of releasing. As you throw yourself to the ground, ensuring that you break a limb, you must shout:

Damn it, you frightened my horse!
Remain motionless and silent till the quarry reappears, stricken with guilt. Open your eyes and murmur to the young lady concerned:
Like an angel in the midst of my pain.
Or make some similar comment - this will demonstrate your romantic side. If mother arrives on the scene casually mumble:
There goes my three weeks in Val D'Isere
and also
My company wanted me in Melbourne at six tomorrow.
This demonstrates to your future ma-in-law that you're a man of the world with a reason to be everywhere. Casually open your wallet, allowing the card of a well known litigation company to flutter to the floor.

At this point, one needs an understanding bank manager and a large overdraft, which is seed corn to spend wildly and impress as your intended drives you around in your fractured state. By the time the plaster comes off, you should be happily engaged, using the engagement ring that was given to her grandmother when she was a chorus girl.

The problem of finances after the wedding is easily solved. Seek an audience with your future mother-in-law on the night before and inform her that the South American deals have gone down, the South African mines have collapsed and the only decent thing left for you to do is to cancel the wedding and discharge a shotgun to your head.

The double whammy of shame and death and deserted daughter will ensure that father-in-law is instructed to sign over a significant portion of the family wealth. When at a later date, your ploys are eventually discovered, as no doubt they will be, you will be amazed at the number of people who applaud your initiative, and so you are destined to live happily ever after.

Jorocs writes about hunting life for the Social Affairs Unit. To read more by Jorocs, see Hunting.

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Worked for me.

Posted by: Guido Fawkes at April 13, 2006 08:31 PM
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