Hello sheep and hello cows. If you are a horse or a duck then don’t worry – we’ve not forgot you. Pigs, geese, and fatted calf, lend an ear, ‘coz this concerns you all!
It’s been ages and ages since that bloke, Orwell, last wrote a history book with you lot in it so this blog is to speak to the livestock.
If you’re wondering why you ain’t been getting milked lately or where your hay has gone, wonder no more. The answer is quite simply really, but you really ain’t gonna be that impressed.
It’s ‘coz yer owners are far to blooming busy with their noses in their computers trying to earn some decent dosh.
They don’t think you pay your way so they’ve got plans for you. If you’ve never seen a bacon buttie then you’re in for a bit of a surprise.
Once your owner’s filled his bank a bit you’re for the high jump. It’s choppity chop with your back bits and it’s choppity chop with the front.
What they’ve got planned with your tenderest bits won’t just bring tears to your eyes…it’ll bring tears to every living creature’s eyes.
Don’t panic – it takes them a while to get something called a website going and fill it up with nonsense. Other people look at it for a while then hands them loads of electrical money called wonga so they will be back soon, they said.
Once they’ve done their stuff at home and it’s all going proper they’ll be straight on their phones.
The first thing you will know about it is when this big lorry turns up and the geeezer says “Get in,”
If you’re lucky you’ll go straight down the road, not far.
But some of you lot, specially the yummy ones, or the ones who funny people like, could end up going over seas so do pack your pills and send a postcard when you get there.
Your owner would love to hear from you.
Then comes the best bit when they get you to a nice big building. If it smells funny it’s ‘coz it ain’t gonna be that funny. No for you, anyway.
The bloke that’s shooting you might be having a laugh on his mobile at the time so it’s not all bad news, eh? If you’re very lucky he might hit you first time.
Close your eyes for this next bit – don’t read it if you’ve just had your din-dins or are scoffing your pudding.
Hold on a minute – it’s far too gruesome for here. We don’t want to know where our bacon butties come from – we just wants your back home and in our tummies..
So don’t worry about posting the postcard, eh – bring it with you and leave it at the side of the plate.