Dear diary,
Well, it’s fair to say none of you saw that coming, did you?! I did tell you I had news – but in fairness, I guess this was NEWS on a scale more epic than my, now recognised, talent.
As the details spread like wildfire, I was happy to see so many of you congratulate British Eventing for their smart choice – it’s important that we do that. It takes big people to admit when they have goofed and my new friend, WhatsApp group buddy, CEO and all-round visionary Rosie has stepped up to the plate with admirable skill. I joined her and the team at BE for a strategy session in the week – her feedback to mum was I was a little quiet but my presence was felt by all. Although that might just have been due to me taking both the space and most of the ginger nut biscuits…
Talking of my utterly moronic mother, I have to apparently point out that she managed to cock up the ONE job she had the other day, and in amongst battling gale force winds, my flag rug blowing off and me not wishing to stand still, managed a) to hang my flag upside down and b) not actually notice. Now I could argue that I was indeed signalling I am in distress – have you met mother? – but the reality is the woman just has an IQ in single figures. I will get the photos reshot this weekend by someone with more brain power – I’m sure there is a friendly amoeba around somewhere. Honestly, I have met garden gnomes with more about them… Anyone who said you shouldn’t work with children and animals has never tried it with an overworked, overwrought, overweight, over the hill menopausal train wreck…
Anyways, I am still in full preparation for my new role, did I mention it at all? You know, the official British Eventing supporter mascot for the OLYMPICS? No? I don’t like to brag so it may have escaped your attention…
I had a bath last week and I have heard tails of Crazy Self-Employed Lady scheming to clip a union jack in my ass (let’s hope she gets it the right way around – distress signals on a fence is one thing but on my bum might be a whole different set of issues). I also had the willy washer come this week to make sure I am all spruced up in the supporter sausage stakes – although any rumours or indeed images of me appearing to enjoy it far too much are merely the desperate attempts of foreign nations to discredit me. They are after all, all now cantering scared; the GB big gun is on the field so you can’t blame them…
Talking of other nations, in an effort to ensure our nearest neighbours and inhabitants of the place of my birth felt we still loved and appreciated them, I popped over briefly to Dublin along with the managing director of Equiratings who do all the really cool and amazing data and insight stats on the equestrian world. Frankly I don’t really know what any of that means but he’s a fellow Irishman and seems much more switched on than mother, so I’m there with more bells on it than a Morris dancer at a Campanology course.
I am told flags with my face on them are rolling off the press as we speak and our brilliant riders and horses have almost had to be separated due to enthusiastic squabbling over who gets my attention, and thus advice, first. Rest assured I am currently compiling my guide to each phase – including the stressage – to help the team, neigh indeed the whole eventing world to turn the dial in a way never seen before.
As we start the serious countdown, stay tuned to all social media and remember to use my hashtags (yes hashtagS – because I am just too big to only have one) to show support to everyone; #HovisInParis #HovisHereToHelp #HovisWithUs. Be like butter knives peoples and spread the word.
Laters,
Hovis
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