The Inglorious Twelfth

Updated: Aug 20

The verb “to grouse,” originally meant “to complain or grumble”. And grumble they did.



The glorious twelfth they call it. But with the shackles of lockdown barely hitting the floor the small men with big socks were out in numbers attempting to beat and shoot their way through the desert-like heat. How this drain on society get away with their "sport" they arrogantly replace the term "killing animals" with "shooting". As if to warrant legitimacy and glory. But its pathetic.

So what a joy it was to see 4x4 after 4x4 roll in to the Anti's meet with notable faces and flags from around the united kingdom. Some old, some new and without doubt a whole mountain of experience on show at the Hunt Saboteurs now famous Inglorious12th. This is what we call a Mass Sab.


As pleasantries and cruelty-free sandwiches were exchanged the radio note came in that of the witless gunslingers had shown their faces upon the moorland. Firing at the unsuspecting grouse. With the pin-up boy of scum Tim Bonner getting excuses in early, moaning of lack of grouse and covid ruining all his pals businesses it was clear the weather put pain to their plans too. But did it stop the ascent of the HSA? Not a chance. Don't underestimate what climbing 400 metres above sea level in 30 degree heat and no breeze can do to your mind. The fact Cheshire and Lancashire decided to go traversing the hillside in case the hunt double backed we are clearly glutton for punishment.


We managed with a few missed footings and some outstanding sights were met at the top. Wonderful grouse still hiding in the bracken flew up in terror yet were met with vegans with flags instead of lead. Thank the lord.


A spot of sunbathing was had whist reconnaissance missions were set into further grousemoors and the lines were drawn again. We had heard a full scale contact had happened with North Wales and Manchester in the mix and a sab had been mowed down by a disgruntled and portly scummer. His socks up to his neck in anger. We drove a further half an hour to the area where the hunt had packed up and the job was already done. Guns broken and slung on their backs as they were marched off their own hillside to their tea shops in disgrace. Police were loitering and sabs were cooling off ready for a trip home and cup of ice tea.


A spot of sunbathing was had whist reconnaissance missions were set into further grouse moors and the lines were drawn again. We had heard a full scale contact had happened with North Wales and Manchester in the mix and a sab had been mowed down by a disgruntled and portly scummer. His socks up to his neck in anger. We drove a further half an hour to the area where the hunt had packed up and the job was already done. Guns broken and slung on their backs as they were marched off their own hillside to their tea shops in disgrace. Police were loitering and sabs were cooling off ready for a trip home and cup of ice tea..


If any day shows what a mighty force the HSA has and the future of hunt sabotage it was the Inglorious twelfth. I guess we should thank Mr Bonner for. Tally Ho Timmy!


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