Many moons ago at a place I used work all the big bosses from o'seas were scheduled to visit. Now, part of the itiniery was to convince them of the worth of the helicopter budget etc.
The manager at this joint was a renowned buffoon, so in preparation I chewed over with the boss about us stepping out with a couple of hours fob sightseeing or whatever; no probs.
I does a final spit and polish, packs my personal .308 semi-auto Springfield just in case they like shooting and get going.
Great scott, there they are on the lawn, no worries, spot on approach and land, lunch, a couple of demos chasing cajuns, then true to form the buffoon runs out of steam.
After an embarrassing while with nothing for them to do I suggest would they like to go for a fly. The eyes light up, I'm right on cue, what could this lead to?
I thinks of long hours making money, big contracts all that.
Their leader says, "What will we do?"
'No Probs,' I say rather flamboyantly, 'I've brought a gun we'll go shoot some wild pigs, eh!!!
Silence, absolute f'n silence, you see they were all Bruninians.