BLACK BUCKET!

Well hello there Jock Strapper’s!!

Oooh deer looks like that’s going to become a regular strap line…. Oooh I literally can’t stop myself today… you will be itching for more….Get that!...Jock itch! No, don’t get that > lose some weight.

In all seriousness I wanted to guide you through a controversial aspect of contemporary farming in this post. I may have touched on it slightly in the past but I feel as though I ought to put my spin on things….

Health and safety and agriculture are not best friends. This is the same the world over as farming is a dangerous game. Every type of farming has its risks, ranging from the dangers of chemicals within arable farming, to the dangers of working with animals and livestock.

                                          Accidents: Everywhere

People die on a regular basis doing this job. I’m a sensi-bull, I wouldn’t stampede anyone unless they really fucking deserved it. But other livestock may have their own agenda's and may not have the opportunity to release their anger via blogging platforms and twitter.

The equipment farmers have to use is dangerous too. Back in the day it was common place for cab-less tractors to tip over causing all sorts of bad things to happen. Even today, people get hurt by connecting implements and falling as they climb on slippery metal.

                                           Back in the day: Dangerous

                                           Work that out!

It’s not just moving equipment that hurts people, the static stuff is just as bad. There are constant issues with ropy buildings and static machinery. I’m not even going to mention slurry pits.

Farmers are highly skilled people. Multitasking an array of physical, emotional and analytical duties is the mainstay of this outstanding vocation. I have so much respect for these guys. One minute you are a welder, the next you are an HGV driver, the next you are an Excel specialist. There is no job like it on earth folks. So they should be able to fix their stuff with ease and privacy right?

Last week I came across the story of a farmer using a telescopic loader, large grain bucket and some staff to mend a barn roof I was shocked at the response. Not from the various social network feeds or the farming press…but the actual cunt that reported the farmer, responding to what he saw by taking a photo and giving it to the relevant authorities. The comments that were gathered over Facebook and twitter were fairly collated in this week’s Farmers Weekly magazine however, taking into account peoples points of view from both sides.

                                          Recent example: controversy 

And there are two sides to this story. One a conscientious bystander worried for the welfare of someone’s employees or two, a cunt who wants to stir shit and doesn’t get laid because he’s too scared to have his genital warts looked at.

This guy has infuriated me Jock Strapper’s. It may actually be apparent (and dare I say it) but I think I need some perspective…

Yes, me!

So who else to lay things straight (standard for him) and give me some impartial and diplomatic discourse on the matter than Handsome James….

I’ve finally nailed the little twat down and he’s going to do a bit of a Q and A for me!

He is used to seeing things from the eyes of the worker as he has trade union experience and generally talks loads of shite!

Me: It’s about bloody time finally we got together and actually did one of these Q & A's…….

HJ: I like to make an entrance.

Me: You can take the Aviators off > we are in the farm office.

HJ: Never.

Me: So.. ‘The Photo’ … Bureaucracy gone mad, shit stirrer or justified responder?

HJ: OK. I grew up in the countryside. During the long hot summers of days gone by I liked to help out local farmers get the hey in. we would stack up massive articulated bale karts with small bales. A telescopic loader would drop them in eights or whatever using a specialist grab at one end of the kart and then we would build them up tight at the other. This thing would be moving slowly connected to a tractor down each swath or as ordered by the loader driver. The kart was high enough on its own as it was a converted lorry trailer. By the time we were at full height we were about..

Me: You talk… A lot. Nutshell please>>

HJ: Well to get down from the bale kart we would get on the telescope loader, with its arm up high and balance on the bale grab, whilst the operator lowered it..

Me: Your point being?

HJ: We thought it was normal.

Me: So…

HJ: If my mum saw me doing that I would have been a dead man.

Me: So the cunt stirring the shit is justified?

HJ: I didn’t say that, it’s not in context. Who’s to say if that incident was safe or not. You mention safety and everyone starts to identify procedures and policies and why are they are wrong from the get go.

Me: Eh?

HJ: Immediately people were commenting things like…If this was to be done in accordance with procedure, law or whatever; you would need an 'xy and z'. and that is bad because. We don’t know from that photo what the risks are. But on the flip side there could be no risks. They may have been safe in that bucket or it may have been a loose bucket and extremely unsafe.

Me: HAHAHAHA ..Sorry for laughing I just had visions of you actually being unsafe with a bucket..> hashtag ewwww, That’s probably something you know a fair bit about…

HJ: You really are a dick. This is my job: Take it seriously.

Me: Sorry

HJ: Health and safety is all about balance… Fuck sake Jock, not literally, dogs cock their legs, not champion bulls, grow the fuck up!

Me: Sorry

HJ: You’re such a dick. Anyway. This is a dangerous game. You have to know the risks, manage them, accept them, live with them and respect them. You cannot mollycoddle high output in short time frames. If a combine needs to crack on in a weather window it has to, end of.. and do it on the double.  Agriculture will never be any different. But. And this is a big but… Workers deserve to be looked after. Workers deserve to be safe and above all else, educated. On the job learning is best for this, which is why I am developing some health and safety road show style events in the build-up to this year’s harvest.

Me: Wow.

HJ: Sitting in buckets can be very safe, or they can dislodge, drop right on you and be all consuming.

Me: Isn’t it you that usually does the bucket dropping?

HJ: Literally, the sun has come out Jock and tonight I might have to flame grill your black ass on my BBQ. Stop it now with the fucking innuendos.

Me: Sorry. Thanks for that Handsome, you fence sitting nonce.

HJ: Always ;-)

                                          Black bucket: Not even going to go there ;-)

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NEXT WEEK: It's all about the Sparkles.......

NIGHT BIRDS

As promised Jock lovers I have decided to present for you my guide to birds of the night!

Not whores, but actual birds! The ones that stay up and cause a fucking nuisance when other specimens of this feathered genus are quietly minding their own business in their nests, dreaming of fat worms. And no, that’s not in a BBW sense.

So what’s out there??

Well, not to be confused with my orthodox Darwinian and highly accurate portrayal of the meaning - ‘night bird’, comes the Robin. It’s actually a day walker but with good low light skills.

Now these little cunts will happily stay up all night and chat shit all year round. They don’t migrate, so once one has moved in you are stuck with the little retard. What’s more, they tend to keep to the same territory too, so If one turns up on your back doorstep that’s tone deaf, you’re fucked.

Also, it’s these little fuckwits that actually start the dawn chorus! Yeah, I know what you are thinking…Falling home so pissed your hangover’s started on a warm June night, only to shamefully hear the sound of the dawn chorus starting up and penetrating your ear drums as you try and climb into bed. At least you guys have houses to sleep in. I’m out with them the whole time, Its torture.

Mind you, you have to give credit to these little red chested side kicks. Their sight is built for maximising low light conditions when hunting. Expect to see them in a bush near you next time you are out dogging at twilight, probably tracking down some insidious insectasoid warlord for dinner….. Or a dodgy Vauxhall Insignia with flashing headlights. Who knew ;-)

                                                    

                                           Insignia: Doggers Delight

Furthermore, Robins are the ones you can hear chirping away by well lit street lights at night…….. So they will be out there protecting your ass when you are curb crawling too. Get in there my little ho loving friends!

                                            Robin: sharp senses

Next we move on to actual night birds….

So you’ve had a bad day. You are sore from work, lacking in vagisil, stressed from the state of the farming industry in this country and worried about your best friend who is bravely defending our nation out in some Middle Eastern hell hole. It’s dark, dank dreary and dismal. All in all a depressing night in…the field.

You start talking to yourself in a bit of a crazy way and before too long some bird answers back. So what bird would you associate with sticking their ore in only to give you the shittest therapy this side of the nut house….. Yep - Owls.

And here on the farm Wilfred the Barn Owl is particularly apt at talking bolloks in large portions.

The arguments I have with this bell end wind me up like only a fucking Owl can!

I was so pissed off once – literally my cock was throbbing after smashing nih-on thirty fucking cows in one day, thanks to Matt The Farmer and voyeuristic associates from Farmers Weekly magazine wanting to do some sort of feature. Admittedly, the pictures did look good in monochrome; I scored quite high, Skills.

Any way, I was knackered after and all I wanted was some Sudocrem.

So Wilfred thought he would share a story with me about how he once a cult and brain washed loads of mice into joining, selling up their livelihoods and leaving their homes, only to be rounded up and mercilessly slain for dinner.

What a sick fuck. What an absolute glutiness overeating, over indulging grooming fuck.

Typical night bird, talk’s absolute shite. He was probably making the whole thing up. It takes a dark mind to think of that though. Wilfred’s just a pretender. Only Knuckles The Magpie could pull that sort of shit off.

                                                         Sudocrem: Needed

Moving on now to the torturous tones of the fucking Nightjar…..

With an annoying sound that sits somewhere between an old skool 56k dial up modem and the constant lazer fire of a space ship on a 1980’s video game, you are really in for a fucking treat if these little arseholes decide to rev up at night.

And Dorset’s full of them. I’ve heard they sound like they do because they are all crack heads. Spending the first part of the night tooting on crack pipes and slowly chatting faster and faster. They tend to shut up as the evening prevails. I’m guessing its because they are on mighty come downs.

The last one I met was called Paul. He was trying to carry a flat screen TV with his mate who just kept quiet. He was jibbing all sorts of drug induced verbal diarrhoea about how he was sorting anew telly out for his gran. Like you do at midnight. Fucking tramps. 

                                           NightJars: Wasted on drugs 

NEXT WEEK > Health and safety on farms: its high time I finally comment on this issue