CHUTNEY MAKING WITH PICKLES

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COMBINE THE PASSION: I AM OFFICIALY THE FIRST BULL IN THE BUSINESS TO REVIEW THE MIGHTY NEW CLAAS LEXION 780

Agricultural machinery is a massive part of my life on the farm. I have witnessed its development, continual automation and technological advancement throughout my life and now we are living in a golden age of ag kit! In this blog we are going to look at the very icon of the industry: The combine harvester:

Farmers look at many factors when buying a combine. Costs for fuel, staff and depreciation are key - as well as dealer back up, brand image and the size of the harvesting job! There is a diverse array of products on the market. Yes there are brand leaders and some are Deerer   than others, but now those who need to cut a lot of corn quickly have a new toy to play with…..

The Naughties have seen the development of the high capacity combine harvester. A tool used by farmers to meander around intermittent weather conditions, prevalent in contemporary European summers and produce stunning results when munching up the acres. This is high volume kit operates at the technological edge of the industry.

The distinguished German firm Claas laid down the gauntlet in ‘05 with the Lexion 600. They had been working up to releasing a major player, updating their range subtly every couple of years since the late nineties and teasing punters with marginal increases in power.

But this beast topped nearly 590 horse power and had an output of about 3500-4000 acres a season. A phenomenal statistic; especially if you only have a 48 hour harvest window on a wet week in August. The release of this mighty Lexion saw one machine replacing what would normally be three. Those that were worried about putting their eggs in one basket were backed up by dealer support and service plans to make sure you didn’t miss a minute in the field.

Next up, the stalwart of combining culture; New Holland followed suite in ‘09 with their effort - the CR9090. This beast boasted similar stats but most still maintained the Lexion had the edge.

                                                        

                                                    The New Holland CR9090 steps up!

                                                                    

Finally in 2011 John Deere stepped up with a new version of their S690i. A seductive centurion in the field with a phenomenal power rating of plus 600 HP. This king’s stag has sleek refined lines; accentuating the classic John Deere identity.

                                                         John Deere brings the power!

The S690i was released to be capable of holding its own with the competition and suitable for the demands of large scale harvesting. But in this merry-go-round of might, this party of power and this thumping of throughput, more was still to come!

Claas released a re-booted Lexion; the 770 in 2010. A second-generation high capacity machine with a 42 foot long header as standard. This time there was state of the art luxury as well as clear mechanical engineering on acid! It boasted a spacious cockpit with a field illumination system that could give Blackpool a run for its money

                             Claas re-booted its flagship in 2010 

This week sees the official unveiling of the new Claas Lexion 780, ready for harvest 2013 it will be the biggest most powerful combine this illustrious player has ever produced. This incredible piece of kit nudges 600 horse power and can cut 70 tonnes of crop an hour!


It can hold 12500 litres of grain in its tanks. What’s more it can discharge this mammoth volume at 130 litres a second! The heart of the Lexion 780 is 16 litre Merc V8 turbo diesel pumping pure and prestigious horse power through it veins...

                                                   Up to 70 tonnes an hour throughput!

Adblue additives are used to adhere to strict tier 4i standards with regard to its emissions. Yet with the monstrous Merc lump sitting up top at the back it can still turn on a sixpence as if it was doing the tango wearing an open tunic but still holding onto its modesty!

                                                 The 'Vario 1200' header is 42 feet long!

The 780 has three ‘driving strategies’, which you can programme in using a full colour interface system called CEMOS Automatic. This nifty addition exposes your business management skills to there fullest as you set the combine running to what you think your requirements need to be. It is revolutionary artificial intelligence building on the foundations of its introduction to the Lexion fleet in 2010.

Option 1 allows you to set the combines pace to maximise your grain quality. It will personally alter relevant settings in the guts of thing in order to give you museum grade grain samples!

However, should you be worried about the diesel cost of revving the tits off it don’t be! Option 2 allows for focus to be solely on fuel consumption as this beast can be turned into a rather lucid Lexion at the touch of a button.

Finally, throughput: Option 3 gears it up so you can put the peddle to the metal, throw fucking caution to the wind (and persistent rain) and Get On.  You can if you wish opt for a balance of all three. Yeah that’s it play it safe. And whilst it’s driving its self you can play chess with it and loose!

Automation is in abundance with this machine. The CEMOS Automatic system adjusts it to your harvesting conditions or your economical expectations, CRUISEPILOT adjusts the forward speed of the combine to optimise its threshing and AUTOPILOT uses lasers or GPS to make sure the cutter bar never has a gap.

So a clever three-prong parade of progressive gadgets with a sole purpose of upping productivity allowing you to increase your profitability in this expanding sector. You can then get the best out of the worst conditions, as all ‘high capacity’ combines should do.

Ok it will cost you half your lottery winnings and have sales rep’s gagging to sell you add-ons, servicing plans and up-sell you fluffy dice, but its horses for courses when you have to get the job done.

                                                                 Ultimate precision.

It may have less horsepower than the big Deere S690i but where it’s leaner in power its leaner in its efficiency too, a nifty new cooling system saves power on demand. Like for like this optimising effect steps it to the top of the charts.

These high capacity machines are brimming with the latest computerised systems automating them in the field. Technology allows the operator to understand the most logical way of cutting a field by minimising the amount of manoeuvres necessary to do it and mapping it out in colour. These combines can see where they are going and react to obstacles. They can unload their massive grain tanks in under two minutes and keep going long into the night, lighting up strips in the filed that even Vegas would be proud of.

One such technological development is causing me a degree of concern however. We are well on the way to driverless farm kit, which can have an effect on jobs in long term. Everyone knows this and to a degree accepts it.

When older country folk recollect seeing threshing machines and traction engines for the first time, they thought the same things.  But my beef isn’t with robots, or their implication on the job market. The agriculture family tree will always need an abundance of highly skilled workers with the right attitude.

My problem is when automation goes wrong. John Deere are developing a system for a tractor that can steer it along with a grain trailer when it gets near a combine into precisely the right place for the combine to deliver its pay load. It will be the combine doing this!

It will be a literal tractor beam!

When you are in a few meters of the combine it will take independent control of the tractor and put it in the right spot so it can fill the trailer evenly. It won’t be the combine operator doing this either. The machine will be automating two devices. So you may as well crack open a beer whilst the mighty Deere real’s you in for a filling. Sit back relax, chill out, update twitter, watch some porn and take you eyes off the prize.

Automation is a health and safety nightmare. Computers break more frequently than people and bulls. The implication could devalue an operators need to be on the ball and reduce their ability to call the ball. 

Agricultural engineering is gaining some serious momentum…

Finally back on planet earth, its important to remember the value about what I have been going on about. I hope that in this blog filled with endless technical references, model numbers and stats you can appreciate one thing: The combine harvester is the tool that gives you your food, (along with my massive black cock obviously - as you know that my little Jocks are very tasty). So why not combine the fruit of my loins with some nice wholemeal bread, fry some of my children in rapeseed oil get a bottle of premium lager or a pint of rudely named ale and have an honest and tasty Aberdeen Angus steak sandwich! You will have have then eaten products delivered to the food chain in the first instance by a combine harvester. 

                     

                                                                    Pukka. The end.

Next week: Chutney making with plenty of Pickles....

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PRINCESS CARA OF PURBECK

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Frank The Peacock is one of my closest friends. It has been quite a shock visiting him at the vets with him looking so ill. I have had to pretend to get on with Mad Harry The Vet and warn him politely that he will extend his visiting hours or I will catapult another one of his boarder terriers into the farms slurry pit using one of his wives bras. I’ve done it before and I will do it again.

I need to deal this magpie situation. This dude is not small fry. You could hire the deadliest of all animals to take him on and he would some how overcome the situation.

I had an idea in mind but I wanted to run it through with a wise one on the farm first, to see if what I was on about made sense or was fucking ridiculous. It always helps to discuss options fully and have a back up plan.

So I spoke to Jerry The Adder to see if he new of any poisonous snakes held in captivity in the local area that I could pay off somehow to kill knuckles The Magpie. He said he only knew of three, Metal face Mitch; A deadly Taipan, Discount Dennis; the Black Mamba and Big King Tom - A King Cobra with a real fucking attitude. Jerry said they would probably be fair game and up for an assassination attempt, but they don’t come cheap and they are really not to be trusted.

“if you are vying for revenge, eliminate as much risk as possible old boy”

Fuck me adders talk sense. So I told Jerry my plan; as we chilled out with a cucumber cocktail under a make shift tin shack at the edge of the farmyard, with the late afternoon August sun gently protruding through the rust holes.

My plan was to find a female bitch of a magpie, get her to move onto the farm - And jobs a goodun.

Jerry sat back in surprise blowing air through his mouth like a plumber just about to price up a job for a vulnerable old age pensioner.

“Risky - you are going to need a lot of bangtastic bling to entice a female magpie me old fruit”

Jerry went on to say that he knew of one a farm over yonder, on the Purbeck Hills. He said if I went there, with a proposal, something to entice the situation and spoke to her advisor; I may have something to negotiate with, as there was a female magpie in situe.

We had decided that I wasn’t risking anything just going there for an initial meeting to find out. Ok I was struggling for a plan b and if this went wrong it would be back to the drawing board, but I trusted that wise old snake, stooped in middle class sloanish remarks with a penchant for cucumber cocktails.

Jerry went on to explain that there is a legend in these parts, which depicts seven deadly magpies. They used to torment the farms and villages in the local area. It is said that individual magpies used to jump out in front of motorists on the country lanes for evil thrills, forcing them into a phase of bad luck. They would sometimes venture into the nearest town and do ritualistic tribal dancing on the roundabout too.

The issue became so bad that Knuckles had to be drafted in to exterminate them and restore balance to the countryside. He hunted down and killed all but one of the magpies. A female. He thought he delivered a fatal blow to her one moonlit evening on top of a Giant Haystack, in the meadow field. She must have played dead for hours that night, before flying off in the direction of the Purbeck Hills. Jerry witnessed the take off on her journey of freedom with his own eyes, as she stealthily flew like a jet possessed out of the area. When Knuckles retuned to Giant Haystack in the morning, there was no body, but a simple sentence scorched into the hay saying:

“Where warriors rise, Kings and Queens rise higher. I have a nest and there will be blood”.

It didn’t faze him at the time and his arrogance clearly has stopped him from putting two and two together.

So at sunset I busted out: Stole a tractor (remember I can drive and fit in tractors – but only John Deere’s as they are amazing) and headed to the Purbeck hills, which were a good ten miles away. All I knew was that there was a farm there with a magpie that could revenge Frank’s honour.

I got to the Purbeck Hills an hour later. It was pitch black by now and proper eerie. Everything was silent. There was a farm that was secluded with woodland all around it, at the foot of two hills. It was a small farm with what looked like a small grain store, a milking parlour and some stables.

Usually at the slightest hint of any one being about a horse will wake up, not because they are ultra sensitive but because they are fucking nosy. True enough one popped his head out a stable doore as soon as I went trotting over. You have to be blunt with horses …. Give them nothing to go on, no shit; they are worse than village postmistresses for gossip.

“Im looking for a magpie and an advisor”

I said as monotone as possible. He just looked me up and down in the moonlight and cheekily asked who wanted to know. At this point I told him that I was a champion Angus bull and would rip the farm down if he didn’t give me and accurate fucking grid reference as to their position. To which this cocky plough horse told me he was a champion Arden forest horse and would rip my head off soon as look me.

>>Shit stalemate<<

Arden’s are fucking incredible: The strongest of horses. I knew I had to negotiate. So I manned up, looked him right in the nose, gushed on him and told him the whole story. He didn’t know weather to be embarrassed or bullish and agreed to take me where I needed to go and casually walked out his stable. Arden’s can break stables on a six pence. So what’s the point in shutting them in?

We trotted out the yard and up one of the hills. Half way up we came to what could only be described as a shrine. Elegantly lit by glow in the dark insects mimicking the latest LED technology. We stood in ore for what seemed like ages. Then a pigeon flew out of the tree in front and introduced himself as “Pickles The Pigeon”, Advisor to she that gives hope.

Fuck this.

I’d heard it was a bit ‘far out’ in this area and already tonight I have cried all over a fucking glorified carthorse. I demanded an audience with the magpie there an then and for some fucking reason introduced my self as King Jock cousin of Brutus and son of the Black Beast - Well thought it might speed things up a bit. Then I felt an urgent desire to turn round. Knowing full well that this was psychic magpie manipulation of the first order. So I did…

There in all her glory was a female magpie of premier league status, wearing a crown of ivy and diamond necklace.

“I am Princess Cara of Purbeck…. Giver of hope but destroyer of worlds”

Back into my way of negotiating I simply said that I needed her to come to my farm and deal with a magpie who’s ego had got well out of hand.

She then gave it some philosophical crap about right and wrong and when its best to be all consuming. So I pointed out that I have fucked more cows than she has had hot worms and that I knew of every milk bottle top processing plant in the land. I said that I was key to her seedy vices and could supply her with enough milk bottle tops in silver to make her sinister eyes water.

So the deal was made.

Off we went down the hill, slipping through the farm yard at the bottom like quite spirits. We then started to head back home in the tractor with magpie royalty and a fucking pigeon. The Purbeck hills disappearing into the mist and the developing dawn chorus denoting the downing of night.

I felt cold as the sun came up. I was in a reflective mood in the cab of my massive tractor, confident in the knowledge that very bad things were about to happen…. I couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

NEXT WEEK: “Combine The Passion” My guide to massive machinery

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SMASH IT, RUIN IT, DESTROY IT

They say that out of the ashes a phoenix will rise. They say that from every bad incident you develop a new edge of resilience and that you will become a better person. They say where there is loss, extra strength develops. And they say that all that is burnt is merely a patch for a new beginning.

Yeah whatever.

This week saw the birthday party for Handsome James. The devastation that ensued is indescribable and has left serious consequences.

He hates birthdays and each year we do our best to make them nice for him. The year’s theme was Super Mario Brothers. After last years dinosaur incident which ended up with me stabbing the farmers’ wife in the fanny we thought we would try something a little tamer. 

I went as Bowser – obviously, Top Gun Kes was Princess Peach, Handsome James was Mario, Frank The Peacock; Luigi. Dave The Piercer went as that gay little wining mushroom; Toad, the Fat Fuck Farmer went as Yoshi, Knuckles The Magpie went as Donky Kong and every one else went as mushrooms.

As we are in the middle of harvest the barns are all getting full, so we hired a marquee, got in the local boozer to run the bar, hired some Canadian dancing girls with only maple leaves covering their modesty, got a magician and some Japanese – but only to scrutinise the authenticity of our Mario characters.

So the stage was set for a right good piss up.

We began drinking before sunset and by 8pm I was already arguing with Knuckles. Everyone knows this feud will soon boil over and no one seems to be trying to mediate. Knuckle’s keeps trying his black magic shit out just to scare me, but this time what he did took the fucking biscuit. Come 8.30 he had spiked a load of maple syrup with good knows what, tipped it over the Canadians and dared Handsome James and Frank The Peacock to lick it off them.

The Canadian’s were well up for this and by this point it would seem as though, yet again Knuckles The Magpie had taken over as life and soul of the party. I had to act fast to get back to the top of the social ladder. I called over TGK as I had a plan but needed her help….

There is only one way to settle a dispute in super Mario brothers. You guessed it: Mario Karts.

Within minutes Handsome and Frank were totally pinned. The Japanese were photographing everything, the Canadians were rubbing more and more maple syrup on themselves and all the other guests were pissed up - dressed as mushrooms and sat in circle around Knuckles The Magpie. They were swaying from side to side as he was sat in the centre of the circle dressed as a fucking orange gorilla, wearing spats on his feet and playing a silver plated harmonica.

I had to do all I could not to see red….. but it was time to see green instead! Now Obviously on this farm we do not have go karts or a racing track. We also don’t have fucking turtles on clouds with traffic lights on a fishing rod, but we do have plenty of space and farm kit – so you get the gist.

We also have powerful John Deere tractors. All that we lacked were heat seeking red turtle shells but we did still have the weapons system that Knuckles stole two weeks ago to blow up the other village, which still was packing plenty of rockets. Against my knowledge TGK fitted it to her tractor, as she knew deep down the shit was going to hit the fan and she would probably end up having to save my black ass again!

Me and TGK went and assembled the tractor fleet by the marquee. For the record John Deere’s are very spacious and yes I do fit in them and yes I do drive them when I have to.

Still dressed as king Bowser, I stormed into the marque and stole a microphone off a naked Canadian doing what could only be described as a crab like manoeuvre whistling the ITV theme tune to Hercule Priorot.

“As the main protagonist of Super Mario Brothers its naturally fitting I should interfere at this point and challenge you lot to some Mario kart battle action”

They didn’t take much persuading to get involved. I looked directly at Knuckles and he just looked at me side on and smiled, dropping his harmonica carelessly to the ground, as if it had served its purpose. We only had enough tractors for my main farmyard friends. We jumped in and pulled up along side each other in a grass meadow next to the marque.

TGK shouted that we would race around the perimeter in a loop for ten laps. Everyone waved to acknowledge except knuckles who actually waved a magic wand, still trying his voodoo crap out. Handsome and Frank did seem a little distant but were still smiling and raring to go!

What happened next will come to pass a defining moment for my friends and this farm.

We started to race, but it was nothing spectacular; a load of pissed up revellers driving tractors round the edge of a field at 20 miles an hour. But then Knuckles shunted into the back of Frank The Peacock causing him to stop. Frank was leading at this point and we drove past as he came to a halt. Knuckle’s was leading and I was behind him as we carried on down towards the end of the field…. He then stopped abruptly and I went into the back of him!

What a cunt. I got out and he got out and we started rowing. He told me to chill the fuck out and it was a stupid idea to go racing in tractors. I told him our friendship was officially over and he should leave the farm for a more urban setting suited to his way of life.

He didn’t appreciate this and went to hit me. Out of nowhere TGK came driving towards us in her massive tractor… went for missile lock, took the shot quickly and fired a missile at Knuckes. He simply caught it and threw it back. TGK manoeuvred on a hard left to avoid it…. It missed her and went travelling down to the end of the field and hit Frank’s tractor!

All I saw was a massive fireball so I went charging towards it. I have never felt such emotion, as surely he would be burnt to cinder. I got to the scene and he been blown clear of the burning John Deere. There were electric blue scorched feathers everywhere but he somehow managed to still have his Luigi cap on.

He was alive but unconscious.

I knew that I needed to involve the most dreaded of people, the person that strikes fear into he hearts of livestock, the person that takes testicles and fists farm animals for gruesome gratification: I needed a vet and quickly!

Mad Harry The Vet attended the scene within minutes. He is fucking twat. In some sort of morbid way, he wares a countryside cap on back to front so he can be ‘down with the bullocks’. Then he boasts about his testcial tally on twitter. FFF must have called him up first, as he will have been listed as ‘a’ for asshole in his mobile phone I expect. Me and Mad Harry have come to blows a few times over his treatment of my children. But that’s another story. He dealt with Frank The Peacock quickly and effectively and carted him off to his animal trauma unit.

Frank will live.

But he will be at the vets for sometime. Weather he will still be the same peacock in the future time will tell. The MoD have opened a formal investigation as he must of still been on the books of Mi6.

We have caused chaos on this farm over the last couple of months with no consequences. We have behaved how we’ve wanted too, sat as judge, jury and executioner over branded gypsies and maverick vicars alike.

Long may it fucking continue too but we always had a resolution. Knuckles The Magpie thinks he owns this patch and has now caused unrecosilable damage. TGK had my back as always but his skills prevented a clean kill. I am not going to lower myself by getting a fucking cloak, some crystals and some fucking incense and taking him on Pagan style. He needs a taste of his own medicine for sure but not like that. He’s been parading this patch for too long by himself….what  he needs some company ;-)

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NEXT WEEK: May I introduce you to PRINCESS CARA OF PURBECK.

GREEN BLADE RISING: JOCK THE BULL'S GUIDE TO AUGUST

It often feels as though summer hasn’t really revved up until August. I tend to stick to the farming calendar for my seasonal perception and harvest is in full swing during this traditionally hot month.

The hours are long and you have to be alert and responsive to the conditions if you are working in farming. If you are on holiday you need to be safe and well organised. If you work in an office - You stupid cunt get a proper job.

So I would like to take some time out and share with you my guide to managing August! There are some major things afoot for this month so let me put you in the picture:

If it’s hot get more milk!

As far as calling up lactating prostitutes go, l’m all for diversification in your life experiences but as we all know, whore milk can get a little sour if you visit the same girl three times in a hot August week. Sour milk in the sunshine is not cool. So drink cows milk instead! And get a girlfriend. But As we all know cows milk is in crisis!

Farmers seem to be falling into two camps. Those that have taken direct action; blockading milk distribution plants etc and those that are using more tact, lobbying the government and organising cohesive meetings, rallying supporters and political activists alike.

I don’t care what camp you think is right, show the farmyard some fucking support and buy milk! Just make sure you buy it from Waitrose.

Be at Handsome James’ birthday!

August 6^, 1981 was a landmark date in this universe. Handsome James is a typical Leo. He loves a great birthday bash and it would be great to see you celebrate it with us! Over the last couple of years we have gone for themed birthday parties. Last year we had a dinosaur themed party and I went as a Styracosaurus. Those of you that know your Ceratopsians will understand that this was one of the Tyrannosaur’s battle adversaries.

Unfortunately Fat Fuck Farmer’s Wife went as a T-Rex. Those of you who know your palaeontology will know what armament that I possessed as I found a profound urge to fight her and those of you that are sex therapists will know exactly why he can no longer make her cum. For Those of your who cant read between the lines… the extent of my front horn made her a bit too much on the wide side.

This year the theme will be super Mario brothers. So if you fancy dressing up as a fucking mushroom head on down.

If you need a combine harvester buy a new John Deere S690i 

Its not just the phallic pipe that’s impressive. This is now top boy. Class laid down the gauntlet for high capacity combines in ’05 with the Lexion 600. Now John Deere own the rights to the biggest most powerful combine in the world. The brand big boy in combines is now green all over and this badass behemoth will have no worries in the shower what so ever. Find a rich farmer near you to see the green blade rising as you will probably need to re-mortgage your testicles to own one. It is the only thing to be seen cutting corn in this August - or  November if your reading this in Canada ;-)

Celebrate the Olympic Games!

 I was disappointed when the IOC turned down my application to get bull fighting into the Olympics. Not the one that those Spanish gays do but actual bulls fighting each other. Why should the Olympics be just about people? I started this sport at the Bath and West show in 2009 and Somerset has not seen a stampede like it since. No shit; home made cheese with marmite and chilli was literally hanging out the arse whole’s of the Woman’s Institute.

So if you want to see middle age woman with flaming arse cheeks, get involved and invent a sport!

Prepare for Summerslam!

Summerslam is the true main event of the summer pro wrestling calendar. Brock Lesner will be in the main event. I have trained with him a few times and beaten him at a tug of war. He once said to me that my moo was worse than my bite. What a cunt, lucky he didn’t go the same way as the postman. But its weird how pro wrestling can effect your everyday life….

Me and Knuckles will go one on one. 

 

Ive been avoiding talking about this and to be fair Im well up for it Ever since that black and white twat disempowered me at the village fete, our relationship has worsened. The other day he randomly turned up in my field holding a scale model Aberdeen Angus bull. He then started licking its rear end before melting it down with his zippo and smoking it in a clay pipe. I honestly am not scared of this voodoo shit, all I can say is I have a surprise lined up for him…..

NEXT WEEK: The Super Mario Brothers try their hands at conflict resolution…