Who does not love i Carabinieri? Their courtesy, their availability towards the public, their efficiency, their high degree of preparation are proverbial. I then lived as a child in the cult of the Arma, with a grandfather colonel of the Role of Honor (in a time when the generals of the Carabinieri did not exist, if not from other Armi). I lived amidst outbursts of homeland love, fanfare, feluccas and oil lamps, calendars, pendentives, sabers and carousels in Piazza di Siena. As an investigative reporter at the Giornale d'Italia I took care of - as they called it in jargon - the weapon. I therefore hope that none of my carabinieri friends (many of them hunters) think that I want to discredit that worthy institution in which - I confess - I hope my niece will enter given the excellent grades achieved at maturity.
But when there was - And my bad mood is a bit like the continuation of the previous article against the single thought, the number one enemy of sporting and hunting weapons, which hovers in many sectors of cultural and political life, in the judiciary and also - I recently discovered it - among the police of jokes. I will briefly tell you two stories. I do not mention names and also change some references, since my two friends, victims of the jokes carabinieri, are still at stake - some awaiting trial and some licensed - and could derive other displeasures.
The first story is about an old hunter, with at least 60 licenses. Great gentleman, with irreproachable behavior, never had a report, a bad behavior and not even a road dispute. He lives in the countryside, in an armored villa with acoustic and luminous alarms, grates on the windows, dogs. In addition, he has an armored cabinet where he puts away his weapons due to an excess of fussiness. With him lives a maid, who, according to the contract, has the right to go out on Thursday afternoons and Sundays.
It so happened that on Sunday a good woodcock pass had been reported to him, and so my friend, with dog, rifle and cartridge belt, threw himself among hornbeams and rogerated in search of the Queen. Don't ask me for the results. However, I believe that a couple of woodcocks managed to embody them. On his return he found the house upside down, the carabinieri with the lights on and the maid in tears. It had happened that during his absence the very professional thieves had deactivated the alarm, smashed one of the grates and tried to find something to take away. Perhaps disturbed by something (perhaps by the homecoming of the maid) they fled without doing any other damage. A rifle, perhaps stolen and abandoned at the last moment, or perhaps forgotten by my hunter friend outside the armored closet, made a fine show in the bedroom.
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