Again, l checked that my feet were comfortable, and then the rifle, fitting it snugly into my shoulder, my index finger laying across the trigger guard.

I lifted the rifle up to shoulder level, placing the business part of the barrel on the wooden plank in front of me, making sure that it was as steady as possible, and now, l was ready to rock and roll.

The figure of my quarry, any moment now would move across from my left hand side, to my right.

I griped the riffle in my left hand. Holding it as if it was being griped in a vice, and my right hand thumb moved the safety catch to the off position.

Then l closed my left eye and with my right eye focused down the sights of the riffle. First looking at the sight nearest to me, then to the sight at the end of the barrel, l lined them up carefully.

Standing perfectly still, this was so important a minuscule out of line, l could miss the quarry, and l would have to live with the consequences of my failure.

Taking my finger off the trigger guard and on to the side of the trigger, l was now at the ready to make the shot of my life, by just squeezing the trigger home.

At this moment l felt super charged and excited.

Then shock horror, NO, l thought it can’t be true, l realised that my query was the Prime Minister George Brown,

l hesitated for a split second, the voice next to me whispered ‘shoot now’ l then squeezed the trigger.

The kick back from the gun wasn’t like a kick from a horse, but it did push me back, just a little. Maybe that was because l was expecting it to do, just that.

My shot was exceptional; the bullet had hit the Prime Minister straight between the eyes.  George Brown fell backwards…

Suddenly, a third person, snatched the riffle away from my hands, and the voice which had whispered instructions to me a moment earlier, shouted out…

‘That was really cool Dad, what a great shot’

‘Mister, do we get a prize?’

‘Bugger off, and take that moron of a father away with you,

he’s been here all bloody afternoon practicing’