Moo Cow Bastards

Our sheep neighbours have got some new roomies -- cattle. Or, as I like to refer to them, a load of old bullocks. Which isn't 100% accurate, but what do you expect when I've barely had a wink of sleep. This is due to the aforementioned cattle shouting to each other all bloody night.

Cow 1: (Bellowing at top of voice) "Hello?"
Cow 2: (Also bellowing) "Hello?"
Cow 1: "Are you awake?"
Cow 2: "Yes. Are you?"
Cow 1: "Yes, I'm awake, is anybody else up?"
Me: "Fuck off! It's three in the morning!"
Cow 1: "How rude. Anyway, where were we? Oh yeah, ANYONE ELSE STILL AWAKE? WE CAN'T SLEEP!"
Cow 3: "Yup, me too. Let's shout at each other, randomly for a while. All night. So anyone trying to get to sleep is totally screwed."
Cows 1 & 2: "COOL!"

And on, and on, and on... Fucking cows. I can see why they eat the bastards' testicles in Iowa, it might teach them to shut their bloody grassholes. They kept it up all sodding night as well, right up till half seven, when they suddenly wandered off to the far end of the field and had a bit of a nap. BASTARDS!

You know why you see cows lying down in a field during the day? It's got bugger all to do with impending rain, it's just because they're knackered from bellowing at each other like drunken teenagers all bastarding night!

Of course She Who Must Sleep Like A Log didn't notice a bloody thing, it was just me doing the half-shut knife trick all day today. Misery is supposed to love company, and where the hell was mine? Snoring it up! Arrrrrgh!

Even the cat slept through it. So it was just me, leaning out the bedroom window bellowing bovine-directed obscenities into the darkened night.

But today I did manage to write three small, but perfectly formed chapters, leaving nothing left but the bittersweet epilogue. Or it might just be bitter. I'll decide tomorrow. Though I think I have Police Constable Rickards' fate well in hand. No pun intended. Bwahahahaha!