A London Silk goes shooting in Yorkshire and kills a pheasant, which falls into a field on the other side of a fence. As he climbs the fence, an elderly gentleman asks him what he’s doing. The Silk responds, “I shot a pheasant and it fell in this field, I’m going into retrieve it.” The old farmer replies, “This is my property, and tha’s not coming in.” The indignant Silk says, “I am in Chamber’s Guide and the Legal 500. If you don’t let me get the pheasant, I’ll sue you!” The farmer smiles and says, “Tha’ don’t know how we do things ‘ere in Yorkshire. We settle disagreements like this wit’ Three-Kick Rule.” The Silk asks, “What’s that?” The Farmer replies “Fust I kick thee three times, then tha kicks me three times, and so on, back and forth, until one of us gives up.” The Silk quickly decides that he can easily take the old farmer and agrees. The farmer slowly walks up to the Silk. His first kick plants his heavy work boot into the Silk’s groin and drops him to his knees. His second kick nearly wipes the man’s nose off his face. The Silk is flat on his belly when the farmer’s third kick to a kidney nearly causes him to give up. But he summons every bit of his will power and manages to get to his feet and say, “Okay, you old bustard, now it’s my turn.” The old farmer smiles and says, “Nay lad, I give up. Tha can have t’pheasant.”