What is more dangerous than giving a little boy a "toy" wooden crossbow for Christmas?
Allowing his father to get his hands on it first.
I am now sitting here typing with one eye whilst the other recovers from the trauma of nearly having it shot out. Entirely accidentally, of course.
And when I do get full use of both optics, that very friendly cat, which appears to have sussed out that I am allergic to its species and insists on sitting on my lap at every given opportunity is going to be very, very sorry indeed.
Who needs fox hunting anyway?