Rural Sports – The Hunt

Now, indeed. So, here we are then, one lightly-buttered strumpet later and eagerly ready for whatever the rest of this splendid evening can bring. I find there is nothing like an early slight deviation – or kink – for setting off the evening before the full-bloodied orgy begins later in the Little Frigging village hall.

A chaser – as it were.

Consequently, chasing, hunting a lightly-buttered naked strumpet as she evades the hunting pack of villagers down the alleys, sidings, paths, ginnels and so on that can turn what seems like a simple village into a maze, is both bracing and invigorating, both for the hunted and the hunters. Let no hunter saboteur deny it, the hunt is as invigorating for the pursued as for those doing the pursuing.

Of course, in this day and age, it is a fully-consensual act, with the buttered strumpet freely, and fully, involved and very willing to play the part of the pursued. Unfortunately, in days of yore, this was never always the case. In those less enlightened times a hunt would pursue a lightly-buttered fugitive for all manner of reasons, without the willing consent of the aforesaid chasee. It seems the origins of the act lie with other such old or ancient community punishments such as the stocks, ducking stool, or the enforced endurance of plainsong, which were used to prevent, or punish transgressions. A form of – often – rough justice from within the community itself and by the community itself.

Therefore, not only was justice (of a sort) done, and seen to be done, all members of the village community could each experience that glow of smug self-congratulation, and that warm feeling of self-righteousness, that comes from inflicting all manner of unpleasantness on someone else in the name of a good cause.

Yours perversely:

Norbert Trouser-Quandary


A tale from the From the LFITW archive

More from Little Frigging in the Wold here

Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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