I’m not sure all those “helpful” spouses would’ve been so eager to dump their gal at the “ladies only adventure day camp” if they’d known Cabela’s was arming them.

Gals and guns is no issue, but my girlfriend armed with “non lethal” weaponry would crimp my angling forever. The luxury of a shotgun, assault rifle, or large bore handgun means she’ll pause for just a split second, consider the consequences, then empty the entire magazine in my direction.

That’s enough time to put a school bus between me and the Never Ending Banana Clip, just enough to hug the floorboards as the windshield is sawn in half, and when she pauses to reload – I’m disappearing around the corner on two wheels and free to fish once again.

Pink handled hoglegs have an air of permanence, it’s not as if you’re assembling gear and call up the hallway. “Dearest? have you seen my .357? Never mind, I’ll just use yours …”

Sounds suspiciously like the sporting manufacturers have given up on us penny pinching males, and have cast their lot with the Missus.

At the camp, women will participate in introductory courses on casting fishing lines, using Tasers, handling shotguns and other topics. During lunch, a hunting and outdoor apparel fashion show is planned.

In theory, the workshops hook women on a new hobby, potentially creating a Cabela’s customer for life.

One longing glance at your vest and you’ll endure 50000 volts of raw energy crackle through an arse cheek – and as your vision dims and the world turns black, you’ll hear the throaty reminder, “No, you promised to do the lawn, remember?”

It’d be Woody Allen and the “Orgasmatron” all over again, with her pumping the Taser button while society crumbles around you…

We’ll all be stuffing a National Geographic down our pants hoping the darts are diffused by the Aborigine article – just like the butt whippings we took as kids.