Not my preferred option when my own neck’s at risk.
Would it still be ‘sport’ if lions could fire back?
Picking one at random, I take a lightweight semi-automatic rifle from the rack. It purports to be an AR-15, but as I eye the manufacturer’s mark and heft the thing in my hands. The weight’s wrong and the balance is off. “This supposed to be the genuine article?”
“Is good gun, senhor.” Toothy raises a thumb. “Melhor qualidade. Bestest Quality.”
Hmmm…
“You got a firing range?”
“Senhor?”
“Lugar para praticar? Testar?” I hold up the weapon to my shoulder, mime aiming and firing it with a couple of Bang Bang noises..
“Ah… Sim, senhor.” He crooks a finger, leading me through the back into what looks to be a bricked-up alleyway: a long narrow street, perhaps two hundred yards long, con
