Dear diary,
Apologies for the lack of missive from me last week, but mother was returning from Do-bruv-nick, which I can only assume is some sort of prison for siblings? How long her and her brother spent in there I don’t know, but it meant I didn’t have a secretary, and as we have discussed, I am not trusted with a laptop on my own…
Anyways muchos to catch you up on.
I am sadly still waiting for my last minute Team GB call up and frankly, I have to face the tragic reality that once again our sporting teams are choosing to head into battle without the greatest secret weapon they could ever possess. Whether it’s embarrassment, rampant featherism or just a general conspiracy hatched by the underground thoroughbred factions, I have to accept that they just won’t ask me. Well at least not in a competing role.
Which brings me back to my fall back plan, a plan so clever and cunning that only a lack of tail is stopping it being called foxy.
Chef de Squeak.
That’s what I should be aiming to be. Let’s be honest, I have an incredible track record, which I can lay out:
Your Horse is Alive – I get put next to a young and inexperienced Nip and Tuck, I spend the night soothing his nerves from the banging lights in the sky and imparting my knowledge and poof! The boy is a stressage sensation.
Ros Canter comes for a cuddle at Belton International Horse Trials, I give her some sage guidance and voila! World number one.
Charlotte Whatnot-in-a-garden comes for a canoodle at Windsor, I give her some tips on some Irish prancing moves and Im-a-hot-step and her dominate the leaderboard in a way not seen since her and Viagra (the less we say about Viagra snogging me without buying dinner first the better…).
Valegro and Hovis.
Chris Bartle sought my advice and with a bit of steerage I felt he did a pretty decent job (for a human, I mean).
Finally, and more close to home, my very own little Crazy Self-Employed Lady has been riding me to help her learn how to ride a proper horse (and no one is as proper as like I iz) and as a result won the grand prix amateur final on her international debut at Bolesworth.
I am, peoples, the Alex Ferguson of equestrianism, only slightly less likely to throw shoes – only because Cool New Shoes Man can only cope with seeing me every few months…
I think with hindsight that I am just too intimidating to have a place on the team as the others would feel so inferior, so I should use my brilliance in a different way for the greater good. So, the question is, who do I need to submit my resumé to? I get that the current party might be a bit soon for a change to the top table, but let’s allow that to play out without me having to dice with death as a potential French family feast and then they can swap.
Who would support me in this endeavour? As I might need a petition or such like to help convince the neigh-sayers, any volunteers to help would be appreciated.
Laters,
Hovis
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