Today I woke up at half past two in the morning. There's no chance for a lie in when you have your own dairy. I put on my wellies and walked out into the farmyard. There was a strange atmosphere in the cowshed. The cows looked at me funnily, with anguished expressions. I stood at the gate for a while before I went in, trying to work out what was wrong. Then I realised the strange atmosphere smelled a bit like yesterday's Chicken Korma and noticed Barbara, the youngest, most rebellious cow, standing looking guilty, with a takeaway box hanging off her ear. That one's trouble alright! Usually she's happy sneaking into the the lounge when I'm out in the fields and watching Bargain Hunt, but stealing food is pushing it too far. And I wanted that curry for my tea. I gave her a good telling off. Having such a big bottom means you have a certain amount of responsibilty, as I used to say to an old girlfriend of mine. She was always trumping too. "It was Mick", she'd say. "Mick's not even here" I'd say. "He's hiding" she'd say. Grr... Anyway, with all those fumes in such a small shed, it would only take one cow to get a bit excited and the whole thing could explode. She was a bad cow. I gave her some of the soggiest hay I could find, and she went into a corner and sulked. She won't make me feel guilty, though. Not this time. I'd spent Sunday morning with a spanner and a tuning fork, tightening up Daisy's udders. Now each teat plays a different pitch and if I pull them in the right order I can play the them tune to Terry and June. I sang along this afternoon while I was milking and had a go at playing "Judy and the Dream of Horses." The cows didn't seem to like it, and Daisy shuffled about, causing me to miss a B flat. They seem to have a thing about horses. I think it's an inferiority complex, what with horses having all the fame and fast shoes and funny little men sitting on their backs. Still, I love my cows more than any horse. I love them more than anything, more than my car, my dog, my cat, my rat, my Carl, Brian, Dennis, Trevor, and Al. More than smelly old Isobel. Oh Barbara! I'm so sorry! Please forgive me! I didn't mean to do bad! Stuart __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Everything you'll ever need on one web page from News and Sport to Email and Music Charts http://uk.my.yahoo.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+