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

DIARY OF THE DARK ONE

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Knuckles the Magpie is one dark bastard. We have sent him into oblivion yet he has returned, we have buried him alive in a lead casket and he busted out. 

When the snow came earlier this year he came back. He has been laying dormant ever since, like a subdued volcano waiting to wreak havoc on those dwelling on its sides.

Why do people dwell on the sides of fire mountains… because the soil is usually fertile and productive, that’s why.

And when you hang on the flanks of Knuckles, when he’s not violently erupting, you get fertile back up. Not in a gay way but having a powerful pagan in your corner is never a bad move.

He’s been very detached since he has retuned. I’ve literally seen him fly over once and apparently he doesn’t even jump out on motorists at the roundabout heading into town to hex them any more.

So what’s wrong with him?

I know we have really clamped down on him, but the scary thing about Knuckles is, that he doesn’t have an ego. He steps up and takes it. He never boasts.

Any way, a couple of weeks a go I got the fucking shock of my life!!

I found a random book in my field. It had a black leather binding and on the first page it said ‘A magpie’s diary’. As I began to read through I realised that this was a diary. It was Knuckles’ personal diary!

After digesting all that was written in it I concluded that this magpie needs to seriously hire a crane, build a bridge and get the fuck over it!

Let me give you some insight into his troubled mind:

We are moving towards a more spiritually engaging time. More people are learning about their inner self through either becoming involved in left field religions or just feeling more spiritually connected. I’m worried that this is caused by a growing amount of adversity in people’s lives. Many are facing ever-harder challenges with regard to money, work, the cost of training and social mobility.

I have always developed my spiritual self and on occasion it has caused me to do some very crafty things if you get my drift. However I can only see things getting worse round here and I hope some of my friends on the farm can seek some solace in a more spiritual approach when they do.

What the fuck?

I foresee Matt The Farmer wanting to dramatically downsize meat production. I think he wants to cease dairy altogether and I think he will drastically reduce the size of the beef heard. So much so in fact, that I don’t think he will even need a stock bull. This is why I had to get rid of the bison. Jock may think he has Matt wrapped round his hoof but he doesn’t.

Yeah. Whatever you reckon you fucking self absorbed magical retard.

So lets clear something up from the get go. I didn’t mean to shoot Frank The Peacock that day. Princess Cara was more powerful than me and our families do have beef. I’m just not a strong enough magpie to resolve it all…Yet. I hold everyone on that farm deer to my heart but I cannot let them know this. I need cover of darkness in order to seem credible. I have a constant battle with emotion and this stems from my childhood.

I left in the autumn, not because of those redneck snakes but because I had to go away and gain strength, knowledge and compassion. In all seriousness, I could have taken them one winged to be honest. I had to rediscover myself once more. So I thought I would live it up with some of the migrators and as Jock would say ‘fucked off to Africa for a right laugh’.

Erm, I think they actually quite beasted you, you fuck whit.

It was a good trip and I met some amazingly cool dudes. Some of them are coming back here, to the farm. These folk on the farm need enlightenment and I have arranged for some rather amazing animals to come here over the next few months, to show them a side to life they never knew existed

I’m sorry but I really can’t put up with any moaning fucking Africans moving to this farm. This will not be happening, not in my back farmyard

But now to more pressing concerns. I have seen the future. I can’t help it I have ‘the gift’, passed down through generations of magpies that have the curse of foresight. I see it as a curse an not a gift and it has got in the way of those I have loved and lost over the years. Il get to the point, one of the main crew is going to die. I am too messed up about it to even write their name. It’s going to cause a lot of devastation and its not going to be pretty.

Get fucked Knuckles, we are all safe as houses here! Uh-oh FRAAAAAAANK!

If anyone in the future reads this just remember, it’s all true. If you see me alone you will have a bad day. If you see Princess Cara and me together you will have a great day. If you see me, Princess Cara and my four brothers, you are going to become fucking richer than your wildest dreams. And if you see me, Princess Cara, my brothers and my first love Sparkles The Magpie just remember to keep your fucking mouth shut!

Who the fuck is Sparkles? This guy keeps no secrets!!! And bye bye tough exterior you overly emotional cunt. Well he’s going to want this back. I’m assuming he must have dropped it when he flew over. He will be looking for it I have no doubt……

next week: my guide to night birds. Not whores but actual birds that stay up late and talk absolute shite!

NISSAN NAVARA > WEALTHY FARMER?

Its bloody freezing. It’s been bloody freezing all winter and its March now and I’m fucking sick of it.

The east wind has been blowing.  The east wind is the mother fucker of all winds as it goes beyond cold. It goes beyond that brutal cold of the north wind, perhaps not out accelerating it but hitting you with a ferocity that only Mother Nature herself can conjure up. And she’s a bitch. I think Handsome James dated her once when he was going through one his ‘phases’. The east wind is like having razor blades blasted at you by a wind tunnel, causing consistent yet scattered lacerations all over your face, sirloin and rump.

Weather like this is not normal.

So, I have been looking at how this has been affecting farmers up and down the country.

At least we have had a period of dryness with these gruelling Siberian conditions. So what do we do best in winter time when this happens?

Why combing and baling of course! Yes that’s right Jock lovers combines were literality out in February cutting bean crops that should have been gathered in autumn but back then conditions were wet. Same applies for the balers too. I never thought I would see this happening. It got me thinking seriously about climate change and that. Firstly is it all a big conspiracy and are these weather conditions being imposed on us? Secondly how is our climate going to change in the future?

                                                                                            Weather - Conspiracy

To be fair if you had asked me this last year I would have told you to do one. Ok I care about the farm and how it can make food for the masses, but in all honestly I’m not really a cereals producer if you get what I mean. I’m a burger producer. The best in the fucking business to boot and really, a wet august to me just means I’m prone to fuck in a shed and not in a field.

However, since I have been in the field and subsequently lacked a fucking shed I’m all for fighting the cause. Whatever that cause is. I’ve got enough strength to stop the planet going round, so I should be able to sort out climate change.

                                                                                  Climate Change - Not for me     

I jest. I am busy with other freedom fighting missions at the moment and I wanted to give you an update. The horse cunt meat scandal has got the nation believing in British produce again and as standard small time farmers are moaning about costs.

No one has picked up the cause of the masses of people who can’t afford to go in Waitrose who need a healthy lifestyle in order to keep their hard working hands in the melting pot.

So me and the horse cunts had a meeting to plan how we can work together to educate lower class scum bags on the ways of good meat. There are only three horse cunts on my farm. They are both owned by Matt The Farmers good lady wife and all three of them are cunts.

                                                                                    Lower Classes - Still hungry

 In ascending size order there is Miramar the Shetland pony horse cunt. I’m not even joking, he is literally named after TGK’s school. How that happened God knows. Any way he’s too short to help and I think he may also be a little bit gay, so he’s definitely not helping. He would get eaten alive by the council house dwellers and they are not ready to move onto rare yet.

Then there is Rambler's Dream, again, straight up that’s his name. He’s an ex race horse cunt who has been put out to pasture. He’s ignorant, over opinionated, right wing and… a cunt….. Unique to this farm I tell ya. Lastly there’s Dave. Yes. Dave the Horse (cunt). A horse called Dave. They refer to him as a hunter. I refer to him as a cunt. I don’t like horses; you may have got this by now.

So it’s safe to say the first meeting was a little bit frosty. I pulled Jerry the Adder out of hibernation to mediate. He nearly died, it was funny watching him get all ‘delirius’. Although I swear he had some female monitor lizards in there. Hibernation’s just one big orgy really, big up our over sexed reptilian friends, get in there!

A contract was drawn up that we would all be nice to each other and that was that. Our first mission is to do a little bit of content analysis before we actually start to engage with the lower classes. We need to build up to this and I may even need some speech and language lessons.

                                                                                               Hibernation - Orgy

We are interested in value. What farmers think is good value for high quality protein as opposed to what consumers think is good value for top class British protein laced product. And this is price at the pump so to speak. So firstly I’m going ask some farmers how much they think meat should be. To keep things simple, we will keep it revolving around me: So, what is a fair price for a British born, British slaughtered Aberdeen Angus rump steak? Taking all costs into account such as feed, wages, utilities, new Nissan Narava’s, posh country farm house kitchens, Sky TV, Aga’s, tractor porn and Barbour jackets.

-          All vital costs for keeping meat expensive.

The horses come into action during phase two of my totally impartial sociological study. When we actually meet and greet some poor people. Should be a blast!

                                                             Farm house kitches - Driving up the price of meat

next week: I am actualy going to leak some of Knuckles' diary incerpts. He was round mine all day yesterday pestering me and I didnt have the chance to select the best bits, or you would have been laughing your tits off by now. sorry for that Jock Lovers > you WILL get to read about Knuckles, stripped down and unplugged.

HAVE A BANDIT BIRTHDAY

So it was TGK’s birthday last week and I wanted to buy her something nice. She is a good friend of mine and has advised me well over the time I have known her. Yeah we have done some crazy things but as ex fighter pilot tractor drivers go, she’s quite down to earth, very street wise, has travelled the world but is not at all well rounded – she said the diets going really well ;-)

Now in the past I may have been immortalised in people’s thoughts as amazing, confident, intelligent, beautiful, graceful, black, articulate, political, not gay, witty, understanding and valiant.

However sometimes I can be a little judgemental, a little over analytical and above all – and only sometimes - a little dismissive. Oh and I say cunt too much too.

Another downside to my character Jock lovers is that I can be a bit too literal. Some of you may link that to being gullible and yes you are all cunts for doing so.

So as TGK stands for Top Gun Kes. I thought TGK must have been a US Naval Aviator and studied at TOP GUN – The former US Navy Fighter Weapons School for the elite, (best of the best). Students flew the F14 ‘Tomcat’ – right to the edge of envelope.

This aircraft was a majestic two seater interceptor jet designed to travel at speed and search and destroy enemy planes on an air to air basis. The F14 was Launched from US aircraft carriers, had its maiden flight in 1970 and subsequently stared in the 1986 Tony Scot film TOP GUN. It saw action post September 11 in Afghanistan, using its newly fitted Low Altitude Navigation and Targeting Infrared for Night (LANTARN) pod system and subsequently diversified to perform precision ground-attack missions.

Thus, in its latter years it became a very versatile option and was sadly retired from service in 2006 after achieving a great heritage, cult status and three different variants.

                                                   F14 'Tomcat' Majestic versatility

                       
                                                            TOP GUN - Great film

In 1976 however, the US sold a load to our good friends the Iranians  - I think they were mates with them, back then.

The Iranians still have theirs on the go and the Americans have all but buried or destroyed any of their own working Tomcats due to them still being flown around the desert by our Iranian compardrés. So I would need to approach Tehran in order to order one for TGK’s surprise birthday gift!

Obviously travelling to the Middle East is a no go as I’m black and I’ve heard they are all racists!

So I phoned up the Iranian embassy in London asking if I could buy a Tomcat and get it shipped over. Not a working one, but a fucked one, or one they would only just be sticking on eBay for spares or repairs. Thought it could be a kind of artistic tribute to TGK’s past – she could put it in her garden or we could put it on yonder hill. It would look nice.

To my surprise they seemed very keen to talk to me!

I didn’t feel like I was colluding with the enemy, but merely two respectable business people negotiating over a product. Well I’m a business bull and they were business Arabs

 

                                                          Iraninas - Buisness minded

 Anyway I’m on the phone for about an hour, giving it some good banter, great negotiation and top class diplomacy… Then all hell breaks loose and some chap turns up in a blacked out Range Rover, wearing a grey suite that looks like it’s been painted on and working some fucking Aviators. Fuck me Jock lovers it was as if it was 1986 all over again!

He’s all like… “I know who you are Jock and we are going to be nice to you because you are a dear friend of one of our best agents”

FRAAAAAAAAAAAAANK!!!

He wouldn’t say how Frank The Peacock was getting on in the field but told me not to buy arms from the middle east as it could quite easily cause an international disturbance. What a prick. They seemed alwright?

Any way it turns out TGK didn’t even study at TOP GUN. In fact she’s not American, nor an ex US Naval Aviator. Turns out she used to fly for the fucking Russians! #whoknew.  A pilot of fortune; that’s right a gun for hire! - Against the very enemy of TOP GUN! Good work if you can get it.

-          She’ll disclose loads when she’s drunk and I believe her.

                                                              Aviators - Standard.   


NEXT WEEK: "DIARIES OF THE DARK ONE" - Yes thats right, ive found Knuckles The Magpie's secret diary! and im going to leak some extracts hahaha!