Special Guest Blogger: Wyatt Earp

In the Wild West your career opportunities were limited to three jobs and i became an outlaw and lawman but i never bothered with the cowboy job.
Sure you got a stylish hat and boots but the job was staring at cows for weeks and stomping through ankle-high piles of cow turds the whole time as they slowly lumbered their way toward trains to be loaded up, far more excitement to be had both breaking and enforcing the law.
As a young man i was arrested for horse theft and thrown in jail but i escaped and headed for Illinois where my brother ran a brothel but when that got busted so i went to Wichita with another brothel owning brother but Wichita was a lawless town and when i turned up and saw an advert for a Marshal and they handed me a star and a gun and that's where i learnt my trademark move, whacking people over the head with the gun butt.
Unfortunately the first man i beat the ever-loving tar out of was also a Marshall so i skipped town to Dodge City and joined the Marshal's Office there, and got given the job of hunting down Dirty Dave Rudabaugh which i never did but i did come across a dentist called Doc Holliday coughing up his guts.
Dodge City was not fond of my shoot-first-dont-bother-asking-questions-later style of law enforcement so i moved on to Tombstone and the coughing Dentist went with me and as my brother was the Marshall there, i was made deputy and began a feud with a bunch of rustlers called the Cochise County Cowboys.
Doc started it, arguing over a card game with the Cowboys and i broke up the argument by pulling my signature move and boinking two of them over the head with my gun butt and that escalated to me, my brother and Doc facing five cowboys, two with big headaches at an empty lot behind the OK Corral and 30 seconds later there lay three dead cowboys.
The gang didn't take that laying down, apart from the ones lying down with holes in them obviously, and came back and shot my brother so i began tracking them down and riddling them with holes but apparently shooting fella's for vengeance is frowned upon in law circles so they tried to arrest me so i ran off to New Mexico and found myself refereeing the fight between Bob Fitzsimmons and Tom Sharkey.
I ended up at Hollywood working as an unpaid film consultant and died of cystitis at 80 years old, one of the final relics of the Wild West, and the days of outlaws and gunslingers.