Can't resist telling this true but rather sad tale. Back in Sussex I knew a bloke called Andy McGava, he was from Dundee and married to a local girl. Andy worked for an Agricultural Feeds firm and I used to get good deals on torn/damaged bags of Game Bird Feed from him for our Rough Shoot.
Andy was unfortunately very often under the influence of the local hooch, like many strangers he'd been fooled by the " It's only Cider" trick. It was called Merrydown, was brewed locally and it didn't take any prisoners.
One weekend I called at his end of terrace house in the local Town to collect a couple of bags of Feed. As always I used the side gate to the back garden. Typical Victorian town back garden, long and narrow with flint walls.
Andy was in the garden clutching an empty feed sack, his first words were, " Have you got a gun with you?"
" No," I said and then spotted a rather evil looking big black Cockerel at the far end of the garden. It stood with it's head at a strange angle and I saw that it had only one eye, so it continually swivelled it's head to keep us in view.
" Have you got an axe?" Andy asked..." No, but I've got my Swop Hook out in the van " I said.
While in the hazy embrace of Miss Merrydown he had earlier agreed to dispatch the Cockerel for an elderly neighbour. I went to my van and collected the Swop Hook and knowing what was about to happen gave it a few strokes with the sharpening stone. Back in the garden I gave him the Swop Hook and asked where Julie his wife was, "Out" was the reply and I sensed that yet another barney had taken place probably over his love affair with Miss Merrydown.
Andy approached the bird which strutted away, under the clean laundry drying on the washing line. I retreated to the back door and watched as the race went up and down the garden, under the washing, the Cockerel twisting it's head to keep him in view.... I heard a car door slam, " Andy, I think Julie is home" I called. My voice must have distracted the bird because it stopped running and Andy stuck. A mighty swipe with the hook which removed the bird's head and a long section of neck. Andy over swung and the Swop Hook stuck in the wooden washing line pole.
The headless bird ran under the washing which instantly turned to what looked like a Salvador Dali painting in his 'Red Mood' as the spray of Arterial blood doused the clean linen. Julie came through the side gate as the headless bird slammed into the flint wall in front of her. She promptly keeled over !! sinking to her knees and falling side ways onto the garden border. Andy and I rushed to her aid while the bird kicked and scratched away at the wall nearby. Julie's faint was only momentary, she came round and began uttering very unlady like words at Andy beginning with "You ff flippin' drunken animal " etc:
I took this as a signal to leave and I slipped quietly away via the side gate. Separation followed shortly afterwards and my source of cheap Bird feed dried up when the divorce meant Andy returned to Dundee...