Never Trust Sheep

Post XCVI

The clocks changed this week here in the UK. Nowhere else in the world. Oh no, the rest of the world is sensible. They are fully aware that waking up at eight in the morning to go to Easter service is even harder when you’re actually getting up at seven. That it’s difficult to fill a cathedral when people are trying to get there half-asleep. That cramming hundreds upon hundreds of cranky, tired people into wooden benches isn’t a good idea. You vent your frustration out on the candles when it comes to the moment when you must wave them about. Oh yes, candle waving at Easter Mass. It’s like an Iron Maiden concert.

Oh, but it’s all about the farmers. It’s the coldest whatever month it is in fifty years! Every freaking day I’m watching news reports about farmers on high lands covered in twenty feet of snow complaining about their sheep dying. What bloody good is it that we change the clocks so they can have some more daylight when they cannot do anything about it! All that extra hour of sunlight is doing is perpetuating their nightmare. Now they have a whole extra hour of sheep shovelling. Whereas before they only had to endure nine hours of shovelling frozen animals off their property, now they have ten. Ten hours! All they want to do is get indoors to get out of the misery. Yet they cannot.

Before the clocks changed, it was dark in the evening and the farmers felt like they’ve done a good days work. But now when evening arrives, it’s bright. If they go indoors, they are going to have to break the habit of a lifetime. Sitting down to watch their favourite antiques program, I don’t know, Cash in the Barn. “Oh aye, that’s a loverly barne – I used to put my shipe in a barne just like – oh Gard, the humarnity!” They don’t go indoors when it’s bright. They stay out until it’s dark. They have no choice. They have to stay out and peel Dolly off the grass.

Look, it’s sad when a sheep dies. I fully acknowledge that. The farmers may feel like they owe it to the sheep to give them a proper burial. But ask yourself this – what would the sheep have wanted? You, the farmer, to bury them, or you, the farmer, to have an extra hour in bed? Realistically, that sheep doesn’t want anything off you. It doesn’t give a damn about you. So why should you give a damn about it? Yes, care for her. But don’t feel like you should fall in love with the sheep. It’s a sheep! It’s money, money, money. And there are plenty of ways for farmers to earn cash depending on who they are. Tours of the farm. Rent out some rooms for hippies. I mean hikers. Sell your children. And remember what I said – it’s just a sheep. You could sell it to any of the major supermarkets. I’m sure they’d be delighted to ground it up, turn it into a burger and sell it as 100% beef.

What about genetics? Farmers are already willingly using genetically modified crops. It is a stretch to apply the same kind of logic to sheep? I long for the day when I see farms populated with genetically modified sheep. I don’t know how genetics work but surely there’s a way to put anti-freeze into their genomes. Super sheep. It would solve so many problems. Just think about it.

Farmers wouldn’t have to worry about the freezing conditions because the sheep wouldn’t freeze. They could graze on the snow. Be highly adapted to the situation that surrounds them. Be bulletproof. Almost. Don’t try it, though. If they die, no supermarket will want to mash up Dolly because she’ll be full of chemicals that’ll be harmful to humans. And farmers won’t need to tend to the sheep. Meaning they don’t need the extra hour of sunlight, ergo, we can scrap the daylight saving nonsense, and I can get an extra hour in bed, Mr. Cameron! Give me my sleep back, you twonk.

Have you any idea the hellish week I’ve had trying to get used to this extra taken off hour? I don’t know what time it is! I don’t know what year it is! What, if, when, where – who am I? I’ve drank cold tea every single morning! I always have tea before bed, and I always leave a little bit. And yes, I’m fully aware that’s a crime here in Yorkshire. But I don’t care! Because every time I have woken up this week I’ve drank that cold tea. Because I’m confused. I don’t what’s going on. I’m waking up in the night and I’m not heading to the fridge or the toilet, I’m playing the guitar! And talking of the fridge and toilet, oh believe me, that was an inevitable mix up waiting to happen. That watermelon is truly watered and that toilet cake was truly caked! I have never done so much midnight clog dancing in my life. All because you won’t put anti-freeze in a sheep! You may think it’s the lack of sleep, but am I crazy one? Absolutely not! It’s the morons who think changing the clock’s at Easter is a freaking good idea!

So, how was your Easter?

American-Canadian actor, comedian, director and voice actor, Ryan Lee Stiles (b. 1959), once said: “Never trust sheep”.

Peace Out :|:


I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. You can leave a comment and/or like this post below, or by clicking the little bubble on the top right if you are on the Archives Page. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks.


Please feel free check out the latest posts from my other two blogs:

To Contrive & Jive
Have You Ever Been To A Waterfall?

Hark Around The Words
Non-usance/Kennedyesque


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