THE EU IS A LOAD OF BULL

It's may time Jock Strapper’s and fuck me do I love this time of year. Grass smells good, bitches in the field smell good, silage gathering is in full swing - also smelling good and above all else - summer is a comin'

What could possibly go wrong? 

Everything that's fucking what.

I am usually pissed off. Unless I'm shoving my dick so far inside a cow that her eyes burst.

The EU referendum is not far off and rural crime rates are really starting to take the fucking piss. These two issues are affecting me massively.

Let's take fucking Europe first. Not in an invasion type of way (trust me, Frank the Peacock has tried many times #blackopps - peacock flops), but in a sensiBULL discussion kinda way.

Farmers have always harped on about being opposed to the EU - true it's usually the accent heavy, uneducated, ignorant, narrow minded and keep their tractors in a shit state kinda ones - but still numbers never the less. And they deserved to be heard.

                                                      DIRTY FARMERS - LET THEM BE HEARD

Our union the NFU, reckon we should stay in. They say it's almost even Steven between the two perspectives from our nations farmers too.

I'm on the fence personally. Let's not forget Jock Sttrappers that I am bread for taste. As I've always said - the fruit of my loins single handily keep Burger King in business. Aberdeen Angus meet is top notch shizz.

I don't care where it's sold but I do care about how easy it is to move it and sell it. Imagine if you will Jock Strappers, a nice night in Naples... Football hooliganism and red flairs aside - you are sitting there in a ristorante with your mates or your bitches admiring the beauty of the architecture and stuffing your fat face with pizza and crap wine. Let's not forget this is where pizza was invented, this is where Mt. Vesuvius vaporised entire towns and Roman men bummed each other all day, every day. Hashtag lift those togas!

Any way,

imagine a scenario where rather than being burnt to death, bummed to within an inch of your life or making your rank fat arse fatter on pizza - you could chow down on some of my kids. Have a burger and a beer right out of fucking context, in Naples, Italy. We can export this tasty meat with ease because of the flexibility that comes with being in it together as one big tour de financial force.

                                                            NAPLES - NICE TOGAS

On the flip side. Now imagine me having to have down time in the field because the EU bureaucrats in Brussels think I need ‘rest breaks’.

No shit -these are actual proposals to policy regarding farming. No Belgian fucktard is telling me when Jock can and can't pop. I'll have you know I can go all fucking day and all fucking night too. I can bring down barns and smash through bull pens to find the hairy arse cow pussy that I need.

I have evidence too. Vloggers in fields record this shit, they are flabbergasted. Go pro go slow just doesn't happen round here. Smash it and I smash it some more. Fair play I had a couple of months off in 2013, but that was a fungal thing, the power and desire was still there.

So the EU can get fucked if they think that's gonna be implemented. It's only us dumb ass British that follow these laws anyway. I met a French bull once; he said they don't give a shit over there. They just laugh at it. Fucking French. To be fair their beef is good too. At least that’s what someone said once, I think.

                                                            GO PRO - RECORDS MY FLO

I asked handsome James' views on all this political gumph. He used to work for the NFU and over the years, as well as being a cunt, he has helped the farm with compliance and management issues.

He thinks we should stay in and go to Italy - standard. Hashtag lift those togas. - I've always suspected something was wrong there Jock Strappers. I'd go with him, just to bully him to within an inch of his life regarding his metro sexual ways. Fucking retard.

So I've presented two views here, trouble is I can't vote anyway. My future is in your hands. Do it right or I will hurt you.... Sometime in the future >>  because we won't know what really is going to happen until the dust settles with either result.

                                                                      VOTE! 

Although if I end being barn rested, I will find you people and I always follow through, hashtag strong arm. Ps did you know they are actually going to make an emoji movie? What the fuck is the world coming to? We've even got woman Ghostbusters on the horizon. 

Which brings me to theft. During times of austerity people are poor and the working classes breed too much. Gypsy cunts get more rights and prisons get over crowded, stopping said gypsy cunts from getting incarcerated for the whole life span they deserve when they commit rural crimes.

I'm not just talking abut sheep rustling, house burglary and off the cuff theft, but stealing expensive farm and industrial kit that can get you guys fed cheaper because modern equipment is designed to keep the overall food chain costs down.

Just a ask John Deere. They have inspirational crappy videos on their website about how their over priced kit can feed the world better. The marketing is wank but the message is right.

I was reading this week that a micro chipped JCB ended up on a traveller’s site after it was tracked there via satellite. I've said this before, if it was my kinda justice I would chain gang the men, burn the children and put the woman in one of those face mutilating oxygen tanks we saw on the Deadpool movie.

                                    STOLEN JCB ON GYPSY CAMP - TARGET IS LIT PEOPLE #SMARTBOMB

But of course IIIII’m not a vigilante -don't read my back issues. I have no power over the criminal justice system. Although I am very powerful.

It's up to the police and the law makers to sort this shit out. I've not seen a resolution on this issue, and boy have I written about it, for years. I really want to make this issue central to what I want to write about.

I want to explore strategies and get the perspective of the police. I want to review and test new security systems and watch gypsy cunts getting tortured.

Sorry, went too far there….. ‘I'm the best Jock that Jock can be’… and breath. I'm still aggressive but feel a sense of maturity. Maybe I will get a group together to talk about this in the open, maybe in the actual open in a field with Pimms and shit. Ps I shit loads, because I eat loads because I need to fuck loads. Trust. I will find us all a dry patch, I promise. It’s time to kick back, strategize and celebrate our minds. 2016 is going to laden with massive issues and we need to be ready to take them head on. 

BOOM

                             #BOOM!                        

Hello...

I couldn’t keep away from cyberspace for that long my dearest Jock Strapper’s!

As you know I left the a while ago now due to a string of bad managerial decisions and since then I have had to do a lot of life evaluating.

I’ve done some inner searching too aaand listened to Enigma.

I draw the line at incense though; nothing good will ever come of incense, or a return to incense.

See!

Get the Enigma pun?! No? Ok.

So let’s paint a picture here people….

No one knows where I am, except for that darkest of bastards Knuckles the Magpie.

He’s kept shtum over the matter, because I know he’s in marriage counselling and he doesn’t want anyone else to know that. He is mixed up, supressed, over analytical, 

powerful, a killer, confused, paranoid and agitated.

I’m surprised he’s let this marriage stuff go on for this long. I get the distinct impression he’s not that far away from snapping and something or someone is gonna burn real soon

I do miss that zippo, it solved many problems in the past.

                         #literallyinflamesBOOM

Any way, I am staying on a farm run by what could only be described as an environmentalist and a quite likeable twat of a man.

It’s smaller in scale to my old one and operates strategies in renewing things.

I’m not getting involved with the management this time round as no one ever fucking listened to my advice in the first place. Plus us blackies are a dying breed in the minds of environmental sorts. Apparently beef farming causes loads of damage on this fair planet.

Any way, going into autumn I’ve come to appreciate a more relaxed and less rampant way of existing.

I’m becoming centred and less inclined to want to hang out the back of any thing that is black, female and has a pulse.

I have am slowly coming to learn that in life, there are people bigger and more powerful than us. Like that elephant for example, Abs.

Like that elephant for example, Abs.

I left his blog online after I had left my computer signed into Blogger. Have safely changed my password now though, so he won’t be publishing any more of what can only be described as complete drivel.

And to be taken for a proper ride by the horse (cunts), I mean really?! With all the spiritual insight he has, he can’t even see a horse (cunt) for what it really is. 

That is called failing at life Jock Strapper’s,

Failing. At. Life.  

I’m not feeling at all belittled or bitter about that situation by the way; I’m just stating the facts. 

It’s probably quite a passive aggressive move leaving that blog up there if I’m honest, as it really does illustrate his naivety.

What sort of two bit operation gets in an elephant anyway?!!!!

We have a traction engine here.

I’m sure you are dying to know who else I share my new lands with…..

The animals here are ok, some are seveer bell ends but I think that’s got something to do with what they are made to eat, so I don’t judge their behaviour that much.

A couple of key characters to watch out for here are – Larry The Rat, reckons he knows engines and reckons he can weld too. Yeah. You picture that. A rat wearing a welding mask.

Seems bullshit prevails wherever you wind up.

Then there is Malice the Magpie! Yes! I know what you are thinking! A clone of Knuckles, I direct advocacy or an even darker tag team partner in crime?!

After all, the name suggests wrongness on all levels.

However. This poor fuck had Goth’s for parents. Was brought up on a strict diet of Motorhead and Placebo. I mean, woah! I feel for the poor little cunt…..

So guess what happened to poor old Malice?

Yep that’s right, Malice the Magpie turned Hipster! Has his very own Leica camera and everything!

God I hate Hipsters.

So, so much.

                                                                                           #wouldliketomakethiscuntgoBOOM

But this Malice chap’s all wright! And I kinda forgive him because he was abused as a child.

Its been nice to acquaint myself with you guys again. And I know what you are thinking, what’s my play? I cant just be lamenting my function in life here at this new joint.

Well, I intend to play the long game. Plans are a foot to remove the elephant, the manager and the owner from what I had come to describe as my home.

This cannot be done overnight however.

I will keep you updated and if you’re lucky I might even tweet about it.nd has a pulse.

#ABS -creative-reflective-contemplative-massive ---- POSITIVE!

Greetings one and all who will take the time to read this passage!

My name is Abhaya Mudra!  I am an extremely well travelled Asian elephant, however I was born in Bhutan and lived there until I was teenager.

I am probably at the larger end of my lineage weighing in at six tonnes and standing ten feet to the shoulder.

I find myself at this time charged with maintaining a blog that is usually written by a bull I met for a short time last week.

Unfortunately, he has gone missing which has prompted a large search by the local community.

I was employed by a charmingly eccentric gentleman called Lord Augustus to use my expertise in teaching the bull to become more at one with the world.

I was to be in charge of guiding him away form his judgemental outlook and to ground him in the ways of accepting people’s strengths and weakness.

In his absence I have been allowed to stay here on the farm and I hope I can help out to the best of my abilities during these delicate times in agriculture.

It is unfortunate that a fresh case of bovine TB has surfaced in Dorset this week.

It seems that there are strong opinions and claims of truthful evidence to both sides of the argument, which features badgers as the vessels of contamination.

It is with much sadness that I have learnt that farmers in this county are having to destroy their animals to halt the spread of this tragic disease.

As his holiness the Dalai Lama is famed for saying  "When we meet real tragedy in life, we can react in two ways - either by losing hope and falling into self-destructive habits, or by using the challenge to find our inner strength."

                                     I am a Buddhist and in my tradition we are quite Iconic!

Let all of us that our on the peripheries of this great industry have hope in the notion that government, trade unions and farmers can work together to fight the issue and look for some positive break through’s as well as some common ground .

However I personally do not have hope in this farm’s trade union representative, Handsome James. He wears too much light yellow, which in my culture, means he needs to take better care of his kidneys.  

                                                Wearing this will cause urinary problems.

I have learnt that the farming community finds its strength in times of crisis. And believe me as a relative new comer to this industry I feel as though it is in a truly global crisis. Not just on a micro level in rural England, with the prevalent spread of disease amongst the nations livestock, but on a global level too.

Our world has a growing population and a rapid spread in desertification. Mouths need to be fed a healthy mix of food types from an ever diminishing source of fertile land.

Some argue that a vegetarian way of life is better off for the planet and that intensive meet production methods cause more damage than good.

I am open-minded as people I meet always talk best with full stomachs. Some of which would not have talked at all had they not had the opportunity to chose their fuel.

Crisis brings creativity and desperation can bring dedication.

We need to take stock of what we are going to have in the future and work as a motivated team in order to utilise it more effectively.

Easier said than done, but the most basic advice is always the best advice.

For example, if you want to loose weight, eat less and exercise more.

It is not complicated to move forward in a manner that will give you good results. It’s just a state of mind that holds us back.

I am relishing the prospect of being a farm worker and helping in the global effort to feed people.

There is much learning to be done but already I have volunteered my services to make plough after harvest.

Some local horses said that they will teach me how. They believe that after a few days in the field I should be at competition level. They seemed really motivated by the prospect and talked at length about it.

I can’t help but think they were somewhat tongue in cheek when discussing the logistics of  this however and that they may be setting me up to fail. A lesser elephant wouldn’t trust them but I will certainly give them the benefit of the doubt, until I actually have a go! It’s a team event so I will be using a human to guide me throughout the discipline.

I like humans, my old art teacher was a human. He taught me to challenge my own conventions and paint in styles that I felt unconfident in.

This taught me to follow new lines of enquiry and I almost ended up becoming an architect. However three months working on a building site soon put a dampener on those dreams.  

Also – you have to use a pencil quite a lot and I have an issue sharpening pencils.

I can use those sharpeners with a handle as that’s sort of a one handed affair, but they are becoming quite rare now and were getting all old school when I was dabbling with the trade. 

                                          Cannot get to grips with these!

  

In conclusion I am looking forward to my time on the farm. Agriculture is a hard industry to master but I am relishing this challenge!

I’m creative, reflective, contemplative, massive and above all positive!

I like the idea of working for a human too! And I know what you are thinking – all those years of working in the creative industries for gallery’s and in circuses must have involved humans at the helm at some point?

Well no! Believe it or not its actually the hippos that ruled the roost in the circus company I worked for, with the clowns a close second in command. This is usually true of the industry, as hippos some how manage to embrace all the facets of management in the most balanced way.

See – you think it would be the tigers, but they were always hungry.

The art gallery I worked for India was curated by a cobra called Hindu Pete. Cobra’s are very lateral thinkers. I think all snakes possess that quality.

In the bulls absence I am going to try and keep the blog updated in his honour.

I am confident in his swift return and have much respect for the work he has done.

I am looking forward to getting my trunk dirty and getting well and truly stuck in on the farm both practically and journalistically!

In the meantime, just like I’m doing with this new venture, follow in the words of the Buddha:

“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment”.
 

SEVEN FOR A SECRET

 

It appears I have been kept in the dark Jock Strappers.

But as you know the key to all good secrets is what manipulation tactic you use to break them.

For the last few months the farm’s new owner, Lord Augustus has systematically given cool stuff to everyone accept me.

He’s put our manager on an expensive course of professional development, our union rep gets to learn fashion design and our top tractor pilot - TGK got a chance to go one on one with the makers at Manheim, Germany.

What’s more he’s going to hire three new apprentices, a new gamekeeper and sponsor the vicars tea party!

He has systematically disempowered my black ass in the most embarrassing of ways.

The whole beef herd are talking about it. It’s shameful. Its like I was a rank outsider, someone who means nothing to his affections.

Any way two nights ago I was minding my own business chatting to a very drunken weasel at the top of my field when I saw some lights appear in the farm yard below. It must have been gone eleven at night.

They looked kinda like tractors but on closer inspection turned out to be diggers and earth moving equipment.

Massive flood lights were then erected and they proceeded to drive into one of the farms adjacent paddocks, which boarders my field

Any way there seemed to be lots of toing a froing and shit was still going down passed one a.m. I’ve got to admit, this was making me a little nervous.

The anxiety levels had started to rise and I was trying to count cows in order to get some sleep.

Then Jock Strappers, there was an incursion!

There is a stone wall that separates my field with the other paddock, both of which channel down into the farmyard. These fields have always been used for pasture and this other paddock was usually used as an over spill for female colleagues to get some much needed r and r after a hard days work  – if you get my drift – hashtag wink face.

Now, I don’t like incursions at the best of times. Plus this whole new area of getting freaked out about stuff really was starting to get on my tits. Massively.

So I bullied up and ran down the hill to the stone wall and asked politely to speak to the Forman of the gypsy rabble that seemed to be undertaking these earthworks. At this point they seemed to disperse rather rapidly!

Just to digress – if any of you reading this remember going out for country walks as kids and seeing  young bulls over the fence in groups in fields, there would usually be one that stood out right? And say if you were to run at them there would usually be one that didn’t scarper off soon as look at you, one that held his ground as if to say – “By all means come running at me, jump the fence into my field, go on, run at me in my field, see what happens” – sound familiar?

Well it’s like this with gypsy workmen. One stayed, held his ground and didn’t run off at the site of a massive black bull heading towards their newly established fucking building site.

And what a cunt of an individual this man was.

We are talking the worst that a Poole accent has to offer, missing teeth and the tattoo of the goddess of creation ‘Stacey’ on his wrist.

Any way, turns out he was pissed off at having to be there so late at night. Said he’d never really seen a bull before, so wanted to have a good look. Harped on about being brought on site at short notice to prepare the ground for a new shrine and to install a gate in the stone wall. This surprisingly charming gypsie fellow went on to explain that the boss lady said that the installation was in fact, for the bull!

Fuck me backwards Jock Strappers. There was me thinking Augustus was getting all Hindu on me and is building a shrine to worship my bad self.

I could totally see why to be fair, after all – I am very powerful.

Bless them though, these gypsie workers don’t half work fast. Literally by dawn there was a spanking new gate on the sidewall which divides our two fields at the bottom of the hill. By that time I had managed to get some shut eye at least. Then I noticed over in the other paddock was a lovely leather clad marquee type structure  with a kind of bunting on it that looked a bit like streamers. The ground where the machines were was neatly rolled out and made to look as though there had been nothing going on at all.

I was loving this. Knuckles the magpie flew over and landed next to me. He said he had been kept awake all night and was so wide-awake by dawn he thought best to get up.

Hang on a minute; shouldn’t he be up any way, in a dawn chorus kind of way?

He thought it was a good shout erecting a shrine to worship me. Then he started chirping on about married life so I just stopped listening.

What a bell end.

Then he stared moaning about the noises just before sunrise. He was shocked when I told him I had managed to get some sleep as he said these noises were weird. Like nothing he’s heard before. Like music, but clearly animal at the same time.

Then he changed the subject and said he was thinking about finally hanging up his cloak. I was just about to kick right off at him when out of the morning missed and through the new gate to my field came Beth the Manger, dressed in only what could be described as, like… coloured robes.

Following her out of the morning mist Jock Strappers was what can only be described as my gift.

Knuckles’ beak fell to the ground in amazement as though we were in a cartoon.

I was speechless.

My present was swaggering it up behind Beth the Manager wearing a fucking trilby and walking to the beat of a by gone progressive blues ballad that wasn’t actually playing.

Words cannot describe how this became the benchmark that all #wtf? moments will be judged by between now and eternity. 

And as my gift came into my field following my manager walking up the hill towards me, he fucking blotted out the morning sun…

Yeah that’s it Jock Strappers, Lord Augustus has bought me an Indian.

As in elephant!

That’s right we are talking the whole nine yards. This dude was massive. Had tribal tattoos, was wearing the most random outfit, had his toe nails painted, was wearing a gold ring on his finger and was fucking whistling! Yeah -  As in music!

God knows how Augustus has pulled this one off but we are going to get in some serious shit with the RSPCA.

You just can’t go around employing fucking elephants! They are artists not farm workers!

Ever seen an elephant make plough?  – No!

Ever seen an elephant tow a bale cart? – No!

Ever discussed crop yield mapping technology with an elephant? – No!

Got my drift? – Good.

So this guy goes on to introduce himself as ‘Abs’ and says he’s an artist. Said he was named after the Buddhist hand gesture for fearlessness and that his full name was Abhaya Mudra.

So that would be like calling someone ‘high five’ over here. What a dick.

So I was all like, ‘Alwright Sheba, house tricks’?

Then ‘Abs’ just had to put me right speaking with the confidence and calmness of a Jedi. He said that it was in fact Ganesh who was the Indian elephant god and that he himself was in fact a Buddhist. He went on to say that his heritage was Elephas maximus and that he was an Asian elephant, as people get confused and think they just live in India. He said his sort extend quite far eastwards.  

Well excuse my ignorance.

I told him a little about myself too.

I said I was Jock the Bull and that I was very powerful.

Unfortunately, he said he too was very powerful.

And this is true Jock Strappers. Abs was standing a good ten feet tall to the shoulder and must have been around twenty foot long.

#measuringtothetruebaseofthetrunk ;-)

Beth then piped up and said that Abs had been brought in especially for me. She said Abs doesn’t come cheap and that he is here to give me spiritual guidance and build my confidence.

Yeah, because elephants tend to do that.

She said Augustus wanted me to benefit from some enriched wisdom and had pitched the idea to her after meeting me for the first time.

I’m living in a nightmare Jock Strappers

Who does she think she is?!  – She shoulda been like – ‘Sure buy him in some more cows, let him get a laid a few times, he’ll be right as rain after that’.

But nooooo!

She’s all like, yeah so lets buy the services of an elephant guru, cos that’s perfect business sense.

#farmmanager

And that above is irony not subtext!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m sick to death of people thinking they know what’s best for me. Weather it’s the fact that I’m not profitable in the first instance, or that I’m in need of ‘guidance’ I feel controlled and isolated. Don’t forget the buzzards wanted me out because I was instrumental in rescuing this place. Even they wanted a slice of the lets control Jock pie.

And then, the shocked to death magpie standing by my side is so fucking pre-occupied with his mad crazy missus that it takes a poor old snake, mending a fucking roof to get proceedings going to combat this fucking abuse.

All this just isn’t right.

A couple of years ago Knuckles the Magpie would have eaten those buzzards for breakfast. He would have hand plucked their sorry assess and then burnt them to death all Wicca Man style – probably just with the bear flame of his zippo.

Elephants…. Jesus Christ whatever next?

Things have changed round here.

I’m off,

I’m leaving.