STRENGTH OF THE BEAR!

How can a bull explore?

How can I travel to North America, seeking out new developments in beef farming and ensuring there is minimal competition to our new BLACK JERKY range of beef jerky taste sensations?

How can I hang out with cool animals and random farmers?

Jerry The Adder once told me he met a black bear! He once hid in some explorer’s luggage and ended up in fucking Alaska! Ended up eating all sorts of halucaneginc shit and chatting about ufo’s to salmon!

I want these frivolities in my life too! Obviously I take my work promoting great tasting beef seriously and would add an element of hard graft to it …. I want to travel!

So I asked some of my friends for their advice on how to go about doing it…

Matt The Farmer reckons I wouldn’t fit in a plane: No shit.

Camille Black reckons we should pretend that I am an antique, a taxidermed curio set for a rich acentric across the pond: could work, although I would need a massive crew just to manage the situation. Plus I couldn’t stand still for that long. And fuck travelling in the cargo hold of some clapped out heap of junk cargo plane.

Cut ‘n’ Paste Wayne reckons I should do Europe. Kinda makes sense. Smaller journey across the channel, and lets face it Jock lovers, I’ve clearly got the power to swim it!

But as always it comes down to TopGunKes to talk the most fucking sense. TGK’s plan is to bring the North American farmers and animals here to the farm in Dorset!

It’s not a totally original idea as we have had a visitor from foreign climes here before. Matt The Farmer once invited some fellow beef farmer prick from Devon. Stupid cunt musta forgot his passport as I fucking charged the mother fucker from 30 meters before head butting him all the way over the boarder.

He should have known better…. The fucking wanker greeted me with a tartan scarf and rosette. Does my fucking accent not give it away that I’m from bloody Dorset!

I hate the Scottish.

Any way he’s now back in Devon,….. doubt he’ll ever get travel insurance to cross the border again the paraplegic cunt.

So how do I get North America’s finest across the pond to see me?

It would be soo cool to get some bears on this farm, we could beat the crap out of each other, they could rampage the village, eat the old trout’s and generally cause loads of trouble.

So I started grooming this American chick online who claimed to have a reserve with some bears in it. Turned out it was called Alberta and she was the spiritual leader of a bunch of Indians. Things got a bit fruity two nights ago and she found out my intentions. (must have been the fucking mushrooms making me talk).

Then she claimed to put a curse on me!

Hahaha yeah whatever.

Clearly she is most unaware of my black magic.

And not the sparkly kind if you know what I mean!

Then yesterday some random turned up at the edge of my field claiming to be called Katarina

She spoke a lot of shite and said she was Russian.

Although to me it looked like she may have been wearing a wig. Maybe she was just a little bit lop-sided.  Maybe they all are… probably due to the cold.

Anyway she said there were more bears in Russia than Alberta and that she could sort me out with a contact if I told her the whereabouts of Handsome James.

To be fair (and these are just rumours); many a Russian has asked after Handsome James in the past. And not just the lop sided ones but ones form ex soviet states such as Kazakhstan too!

Seemed like a decent trade though! So I pointed her in the direction of his van….