I recall a day when I went to the 25 yard pistol range of my club and encountered Mr. Tacti-Kool, a twenty-something who had about 5 shooting positions covered with his junk. Cases, an AR-15, .40 cal. pistol, and various sundry other gear that I can't recall.
Though nobody else was there, he had managed to monopolize almost the entire 25 yard range.
I squeezed in at the far end of the range, with about 3 feet of table space. (He made no offer to move anything).
Amusingly, I noticed that Mr. Tacti-Kool was wearing urban camo everything. He had human silhouette targets at 15 yards. The spray of bullets all over the paper demonstrated that the safest place to stand when he was shooting was directly in front of him

Bullet holes were literally scattered over a 3 foot area on each target, though he was dutifully firing slowly with his best two-handed stance.
Lacking a target, I folded an old McDonalds burger and fries bag into about a 7" square and stapled it up at 25 yards. I was trying out my new "Ruger New Vaquero" six-shooter in .45 Colt, with my standard 8 grains of Unique hand loads.
Firing one-handed, I put all six rounds neatly into the 7" improvised square target, though I had never fired the revolver before.
Happily, the fixed blade and back strap notch sights were well-regulated for me.
"Looks like the sights are dead-on." I said to Mr. T.K., but received no response.
A couple of my improvised targets later, with similar results, and Mr. T.K. packed up and left, leaved a ton of .40 caliber aluminum casings on the ground.
He was probably just finished shooting, but he literally could not hit a bull in the ass with a banjo, despite thousands of dollars worth of ordinance and the latest in urban ninja fashion.