Being taken to an undisclosed location and surrounded by men chatting idly about firearms is something more associated with hostage situations than press events. And yet here I was. I had accepted RPS’ mission to go out to the countryside and shoot WWII sniper rifles with complete strangers, despite harbouring very straightforward phobias of both bullets and dying of bullets. It’s not that I hate men with real guns; it’s just that I prefer them to be very far away. Did you know I have a recurring nightmare in which I am shot in the head by an unknown assailant – and, in one instance, by Daniel Day-Lewis? Well, I do. Yet here I was in some remote farmhouse waiting to be handed a loaded Springfield M1-something-something. The things I do for you, dear reader. The things I do for you.(more…)