The first sheep came out and strutted confidently into the centre of the arena, to the announcement from the compare that it was part of the lesser shaggy four footed rare woolly mountain something or other category. Said sheep was fully inspected and after some deliberation and heated discussion between the judges awarded first Prize? I can tell you I wish I’d put money on that result.
The second category had more of a contested feel about it and comprised three, yes count them three sheep. Two black & white and just a plain white one, I can only presume that this category was the “Daz sheep challenge” category as the white sheep waltzed off with first prize.
All three sheep were led from the ring, only to return a few moments late under a new category, (I’m sure the white one was now wearing a wig), this new category was obviously not the bad wig category as the result was reversed.
Things were getting way too exciting for Mrs B and myself so we made our excuses and left before any non sheep animals turned in the arena covered in cotton wool or the judges were forced to make a difficult decision over a category with no actual entries.
Still it could have been worse; we might have been at a Craft Fair. Very much like a Country Fair except the strangely dressed country folk (farmers I believe they are called, who are eager to show the results of some weird interbreeding programs), are replaced by some extremely untalented people. These talently challenged individuals sit around a marquee trying to embarrass other people, (who should know better than to have attended the event in the first place) into spending their hard earn cash on hand crafted dross. This stuff is so bad that even the shopping channel would struggle to flog to its most drunken viewers. Otherwise sensible people, who attend these events (so clearly not that sensible), seem to lose control over their wallets and return home with rubbish that your average dustbin men would refuse to take away. Once the hypnotic effect of the Craft Fair has worn off the only option left to them is to take the purchased item to a Car Boot sale (at this point there is a real danger of them getting dragged into the even more sleazy world, that of the ebay user)(aside 2)
Midlife crises continued.
Following previous revelations of my midlife crises I have discovered that I am not the only person who has entered the dangerous world that is open top motoring. Just in case there are others of you out there risking your very lives going topless at the drop of a switch, here are some survival tips for you. Use ear muffs, blankets, flying goggles, ski gloves, long johns and spray your entire body (including the crotch area) with deep heat. This can get you through most journeys of up to a mile or so. i.e. your local Tesco’s, as long as you don’t purchase anything from the frozen section. If you don't have enough self control to keep out of the freezer isle then you might need to set fire to the blankets on the return journey. If you are very lucky you might just make it home with some of your extremities still attached. I now know why Captain Scott did not take an open top car to the pole, or if he did then Oats probably borrowed it to nip to the local supermarket, which would at least explains one mystery ….
Well done, you have survived another BlackLOG - historical – if you have enjoyed it please pass it on to anyone you know who might also be lacking a life. If you tune into the BlackLOG on Monday morning I will be revealing just how stupid I can be.......
(1)I felt slight pangs of guilt as I tucked into my minty lamb baguette (Like a sandwich with the ability to bite back, if you don’t eat them carefully you can end up with lacerations of the gums, equivalent of chomping your way through a barbed wire fence, boy those French like to make us suffer).
(2)If you or anyone else you know have experienced addiction problems covered in this weeks blog please contact the writers of East Enders, don’t expect a reply or to even have your story feature in an episode it’s just the East Enders story lines are so depressing the writers could do with a good laugh.(Return to text)
