Height discrimination

Chugging up the drive to a friend’s shoot in the ancient Land Rover, the first two guns I saw were men of about six feet seven. My immediate thought was that all the guns, bar me, had been chosen for their height. If so, the line would look pretty impressive until it reached a mere six-footer (or less — I’m shrinking). They would presumably also have the advantage of being nearer their quarry.

Fortunately, the rest of us were in the 90 per cent of humanity that car designers cater for. I was placed next to the elegant wife of one of the tall men, who was shorter than me but shot better. Her husband and his vertically unchallenged companion fell to discussing my Land Rover, as people often do (usually by expressing surprise that it arrived unaided). One protested fondness for the breed but demonstrated why he was unable to drive them: the centre bulkhead prevented seat adjustment of any significance, which meant that his knees were forced up against what passes for a dash, making it dangerously difficult and slow for him to move his foot from one pedal to another.