[Sydney]

Today I was persuaded to take a look at an outdoors convention being held in the area, but I think Killing Convention would be a more appropriate name. The car park was a spectacle in itself, with cars sporting bumper stickers with slogans such as I Hunt, I Vote and Guns Don't Kill People, People Kill People.

The "admit one" stamp was pressed on my arm, I entered the event complex and soon enough could smell the foul odour of a taxidermist's chemicals. Staring at me from every corner were empty plastic eyes that had been slapped into the sockets of once-beautiful animals. Large television sets played grainy footage of slack jawed rubes aiming their rifles at buffalo, deer, bears and even cheetahs. Guns of all sorts lined the presentation desks. I quietly commented to my companion on the posters that depicted a smiling, unshaven man standing triumphantly with his rifle over bloody carcasses. The woman behind the desk, not quite catching my comments, said: "Aren't they fabulous? They're only five dollars. Or would you like this bumper sticker?" she continued, holding up a sticker that said Hunting = Conservation. "Erm, no." I quickly answered.

Every few minutes a woman with an American accent would make an announcement: "Just a reminder that this afternoon there will be fly fishing demonstrations at the lakes." No thanks. The country music station had even planted their van outside, alongside a fenced area containing this giant Pig Dog with her pups, strings of drool oozed from her lips. We felt out of place amongst the crowds of rednecks excitedly moving from one stall to the next, grasping the guns, carressing the knives and stroking the dead animals.

Soon enough we left.