Dear Diary
Apologies for the lack of update from me last week but the mothership was in the Currybean – doing what I have no idea but it’s not inconceivable she was playing pirate. Let’s be honest she’s that blind that an eye patch might be a good addition, she’s bird-brained so a parrot would help and she limps more than someone with a wooden leg most days. Anyone who has also seen her the morning after a night out would also suggest the resemblance between her and Jack Sparrow is positively uncanny…
Anyways, whilst she was off traumatising tropical islanders with the horrors of her in a swimsuit, we were enjoying good weather and some good old fashioned nakedness here. Now obviously I am unable to go fully naked as I have to wear my mask of Zorro to protect my £12 billion bionic eye but the rest of me was definitely sans clothing. Which was fab! Sun on my back, mud in my mane, filth in my feathers and no mothership to whinge about it. Add in the fact we have only just got to the point that we’ve eaten down the ginger ninjas grass in his field (and let’s be clear here – I have done the eating whilst he’s stood in a bare patch, the size of his brain cell and watched) and it’s all been pretty good.
Herman the German’s much more lovely and glamorous assistants (and yes, they now come to me in twos to ensure that more than one of them gets to lay their hands on celebrity) came to see me on Monday to give me my latest shot of superhero juice. The other ignoramuses of the yard suggested it was merely my vaccinations and nothing special, but I know differently – bionic eye, superhero mask, genetically altered blood and an other worldly ability to create vets bills the size of a planet from thin air and there is no doubt in my mind that I am indeed the Hoverine.
They seemed thrilled to see me, commented I looked rather well (which will mean I have a grass muzzle gaffer taped to my mouth by the queen of contradiction by the weekend – mark my words), jabbed me in the neck with my super serum and then went to take bloods from the hormonal half-wit. Due to his PMT he has to have bloods taken frequently to see how much of a girl he’s become and to ascertain if he should be allowed to look sideways at a bit of grass or not. Sadly, for my grass intake his bloods have come back pretty good so he will be allowed to continue as is – it appears I was the only one mildly miffed by this but then there’s nothing new…
So, I’m off to enjoy this inbetweeny period between us all whinging about rain (which by the way hasn’t gone away – I got soaked yesterday) and the money being spent on rug cleaning/shampoo/hay from us all being inside and us all whinging about heat and the cost of fly spray/suncream/hay from us all being inside…
Laters,
Hovis
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