Granville Monte-Brown

A wealthy country squire who loves
to shoot anything that moves

SCENE - Granville and his servant (right-hand-man) wander round the Monte Estate, Granville with his double barrel rifle by his side.

Servant: “so my advice Sir Granville is to at least impress upon the local authority that we are considering their proposal for public access to the east wing’s footpath"

Granville: “and then what? They’ll be demanding the right to roam across the whole bloody estate and right into the drawing room, and while they’re at it perhaps join us for a game of bridge!”

Servant: “according to our ordinance survey map sir the area IS listed as a public footpath so we must at least grant them access within a reasonable scope without having to take matters into our own hands - like the last time”

Granville: “but that blighter I open fired on was well OUTSIDE their reasonable scope”

Servant: “it was somebody’s dog sir, which I heard only chased a squirrel off of the path”

Granville: “Making it trespassing Dudley! You just can’t have any old so-and-so wandering onto your land whenever it takes their fancy. Before you know it, we’ll be seeing a commune of bearded sandal wearers enjoying their pot-smoking picnic on the common telling us all to join hands and practice buggery. Absolutely not, perish the thought if that irksome council ever gets it ruddy way.”

Servant: “sir, perhaps if we could just limit the use of firearms to hunting instead of a means to settle disputes I’m sure the council would view us more favourably"

Granville: “huh, that lot would put a stop to us hunting too if they could. Well not even Blair and his old witch managed to put the kybosh on our grand sport!!” [raises his rifle and open fires]

Servant: “not the livestock sir PLEASE! That’s the fourth sheep you’ve shot this week, what is happening!”

Granville: “it’s not my fault the deer aren’t breeding like they used to!”

Servant: “we’ve had to resort to cloning the bloody things because of your twitchy trigger sir, it’s becoming mass murder. Couldn’t you just stick to clay pigeons until we’ve managed to breed some more of the live stuff?”

Granville: “clay pigeons, oh spare me, it’ll be like joining one of those air-rifle clubs the townies join who disapprove of killing anything fluffy. Not that you hear them complaining of course when their lamb chops are being served up or when they're in their local chinky’s for crispy duck! Shooting is a rite of passage which I intend to enjoy to the full. There’s one!!” [blasts a rabbit]

Servant: “yes, little Chloe will be delighted now that you’ve blasted her pet bunny!”

Granville: “rabbits are a nuisance Dudley, you’ve seen the way they devour crops”

Servant: “NOT while still in their hutch they don’t! Honestly Sir, you really should find other means of recreation than just firing guns all the time.”

Granville: “You know Dudley old chap, I’m inclined to agree with you. Perhaps it’s time I progressed onto pastimes with more meaningful outcomes”

[goes into a nearby shed and comes out with a heat-seeking missile launcher – aims it upwards then fires up to a passing airliner blowing it into a fireball]

“I say spot on, what a beaut!!! Even the council will agree that thing was flying outside its reasonable scope” [the servant looks on in horror] “Probably another load of asylum seekers anyway.”