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After a good half hour ramble through the woods we finally found someone to shoot. I think the excitement must have got the better of me. In the first game, in the first minute, I was the first person to get shot, in the ass. To make things worse I'd only fired about four shots, turned out all of those were at the referee. Bit rusty I guess!

       

Things did get alot better. The next game we joined in with a massive group of Essex chavs. They all seemed desperate to get themselves shot as quickly and at as close range as possible. Just the sort of cannon fodder any army would be proud of. We played a series of other games and watched as one stag party of almost 20 men were all given guns and told to shoot the stag. One more reason why I won't be getting married any time soon.

       

We rounded off the paintballing with a series of one on one matches between the three of us on the Western game zone. First up was me against Rob, a pretty tense affair. Pleased to say the Raven came out on top, despite one of Rob's shots parting the feathers on my head. Next up was Rob against Cosmo, after a bit of a stand off Rob finally got the best of Cosmo and shot him in the back. My duel with Cosmo went a similar way, I ended up sneaking round behind him whilst he peered the other way. I could hardly control my glee as I shot him mercilessly 5 times at point blank range.

   

During the game Robert, who was meant to be spectating, couldn't resist firing one off at my butt. Obviously as soon as I'd dealt with Cosmo my attention turned to Rob. I shot him several times in the back whilst he danced and yelped like a little girl. Cosmo, not too chuffed with the whole point blank 5 times thing, shot me several times in the back. A rather confusing sensation, for everytime I fired at Rob I got hit in the back. What goes around I guess. The marshal eventually calmed things down, but not before Rob and Cosmo were bleeding and we were all limping in agony. Not condusive to a moan free trip home.

   

The drive back was very slow. Moans about swollen, aching, bleeding limbs averaged about one a minute. We got back for six, all jumped in the shower, ordered pizza and cracked open five bottles of wine to get us in the mood. Nina had bought us all some Bacardi earlier but for some reason smashed it all over the kitchen floor.

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