Saboteurs in Dorset set their sights on the shooting industry, with the aim of ending the mindless slaughter of innocent creatures.
The pheasant pen, feeders and shooting platform were soon located tucked away in a strip of woodland.
As we hacked at the feeders with our axes, we came across another little delight of this so-called "sport" - a dead mouse rotting amongst the grain. Evidently he or she had gone inside to eat and ended up trapped.
Next the pen was given our specialist treatment, as panel by panel we ripped it to shreds, leaving it strewn across the farmer's neatly ploughed field. Never again will it be able to enslave innocent creatures to serve man's greedly bloodlust.
Finally we dealt with the shooting platform. With sitting room for only one asshole, this guy can't have many friends. Perhaps he mistook them for birds and shot them all. Not exactly the brightest of people, after all. The platform was about as stable as a hunter's mentality and - after some serious re-working - ended up as twisted too. Last thing we saw, it could be seen poking above the long grass, far away from its original resting place.
Try as hard as you want to hide your dirty little secrets, we're always watching and always will be.