hunting chic

Back in the 1950s, my great grandmother owned rubber plantations in Malaysia. Wild boars roamed the compound and many a night would see roasted boar on the dinner table. If we still had to hunt for our food, maybe we would still have a little competitive spirit in us, rather than the lazy fucking fastfood slobs we have slowly degenerated into.

And who says you can't hunt in style? With this wool jumper and the tartan hunting hat, I dare you not to catch a small animal home. I hear iguanas taste really good in a brown gravy with mustard.