If you’re still intent on impressing your pals that you’re foreswearing jobs and responsibilities, wives, and all other forms of material constraints – how it’s all about the fish, the woods, and damn little else – I’ll call that bluff.

There’s little to fear, as outdoorsy trials go you won’t have to do much other than sign a piece of paper now …

Later it may not be so easy, but at that advanced stage of the game, who cares?

Perhaps a grand sendoff for an old retriever – who spent the last couple of seasons licking his balls by your fire …

… or now that your spouse, who bitterly resented the time spent on your outdoor passions and both your rod and gun collections, has finally passed this mortal plane, you can spread her ashes complements of 10 cases of shotgun shells – containing everything from teeth fillings to wedding ring …

… and when the warden complains of  steel shot only, you can get all tearful about how it was her last wish, to use them gold fillings and gall stones to take out an entire V of geese – when the lighter steel merely rattled off the wing coverts.

And when you march up to St Peter at them Pearly Gates, you can do so knowing that the wife and kids are looked after – as the last thing some interloper will see is you coming across the living room at 900 fps …