T’ other day, ah wer ova at Highfields Farm ‘avin’ a breakfast time chin-wag wi me mate Big Ron…
“By eck, that’s bloody champion that is”, ah says wi me gob ‘alf full. “Appen even t’ angels in ‘eaven can’t better a bacon buttie an’ tall glass o’ full fat milk!”
“By eck, that’s bloody champion that is”, ah says wi me gob ‘alf full. “Appen even t’ angels in ‘eaven can’t better a bacon buttie an’ tall glass o’ full fat milk!”
“Aye, specially wen both cum fra reight ‘ere on t’ farm”, adds Big Ron.
“Appen ah approve o’ this ‘ere recyclin’ malarkey then!” ah says, dribblin’ tomato sauce daan me chin.
“Tha can keep tha supermarket water injected bacon an tha diluted skimmed milk f’ aal them soft southern jessies in t’ smoke", says Big Ron, startin’ ter get on ‘is ‘igh oss. “Many ‘em believe milk comes straight fra Morrisons – so ah reckon they deserve it an’ it deserves them!”
“Tha’s not wrong theyer” ah says, “appen them lot dunt know theyer born!”
“That reminds me, did I ivver tell thee abaat our Mable?” ‘e says, apparently changing t’ subject. “She wer a reight daft cow!”
“Oo’s Mable?” ah says. “Ast tha been playin’ away, like? That’ll be shuer ter go daan like a one legged man at an arse kicking competition when yorn lass finds aat! She’ll ‘ave tha dangly bits f’ earrings!”
“Nay, yer daft pillock” says Big Ron. “When ah said, Mable wer a daft cow – ah meant exactly that - one wi ‘orns and an udder!”
“Ohh – ah see”, ah says feelin’ a tad stupid.
“Dust tha remember that big hoo har abaat mad cow disease back in 1993?”
Ah nodded sagely, so ‘e continued.
“Well, ah’d lost me heard ter BSE an’ ‘ad been forced ter diversify in ter pork. So ah wer pooer as a church mouse an’ really pigged off. Onny road, atter it wer aal ova, like, ah decided ter start agayen wi a dairy ‘eard. But ‘ah’d lost so much brass, ah cud only afford one cow at a time.
“Tha’s not wrong theyer” ah says, “appen them lot dunt know theyer born!”
“That reminds me, did I ivver tell thee abaat our Mable?” ‘e says, apparently changing t’ subject. “She wer a reight daft cow!”
“Oo’s Mable?” ah says. “Ast tha been playin’ away, like? That’ll be shuer ter go daan like a one legged man at an arse kicking competition when yorn lass finds aat! She’ll ‘ave tha dangly bits f’ earrings!”
“Nay, yer daft pillock” says Big Ron. “When ah said, Mable wer a daft cow – ah meant exactly that - one wi ‘orns and an udder!”
“Ohh – ah see”, ah says feelin’ a tad stupid.
“Dust tha remember that big hoo har abaat mad cow disease back in 1993?”
Ah nodded sagely, so ‘e continued.
“Well, ah’d lost me heard ter BSE an’ ‘ad been forced ter diversify in ter pork. So ah wer pooer as a church mouse an’ really pigged off. Onny road, atter it wer aal ova, like, ah decided ter start agayen wi a dairy ‘eard. But ‘ah’d lost so much brass, ah cud only afford one cow at a time.
Atter a lot o’ searchin’ araand, ah faand this really nice cow, fra ova Rawtenstall way. T’ farmer wot ‘ad ‘er wer sellin’ up an retirin’. Mable 'ad a wonderful barrel shape, straight legs, full udder an’ great teets, so ah bought ‘er.
At fust, it wer a marriage made in ‘eaven. She produced lots o’ milk ivvry day so ah wer reight chuffed. In fact, ah wer so pleased, ah bought a ‘huge bull ter mate wi’ ‘er, ter build up me heard, an’ ter nivver ‘ave ter worry abaat mi milk supply agayen.
Ah decided ter call ‘im ‘Tiny’ on account o’ im bein’ particularly well endowed. An’ one sunny mornin’ ah walked ‘im up ter pasture wayer Mable resided. Well Tiny wer certainly up f’ carryin’ aat ‘is duties, but whenivver ‘e tried ter mount ‘er, she’d move away. No matter wot approach Tiny tried, Mable wud move away fra ‘im, so ‘e wer nivver able ter do t’ deed."
“Well ah’ll go ter t’ foot o’ our stairs”, ah says. “Ah’ve nivver ‘eard o’ that afore!”
“Aye, days an’ weeks passed wi both mi-sen an’ Tiny bein’ equally as frustrated”, continued Big Ron. “Eventually, ah decides ter call in on yon expert fra Veterinary centre at Thirsk. T’ bloke ‘ad a reputation f’ bein’ very wise.
Ah says to ‘im, "Whenever t’ bull tries to mount our Mable, she moves away. If ‘e approaches fra t’ back, she moves fo’ward. When ‘e approaches ‘er fra t’ front, she backs off. If ‘e attempts fra t’ side, she walks away ter t’ other."
T’ vet rubbed ‘is chin thoughtfully an’ pondered t’ problem f’ a while afore askin’,
"Did thee by chance, buy t’ cow in Lancashire?"
Ah wer gobsmacked, as ah’d nivver mentioned wayer ah’d bought Mable!
"Bloody ‘ell’, tha’s either a fortune teller ooer a truly wise vet," ah says, “Ow did tha know wayer ah bought t’ cow?”
T’ vet replied wi a distant wistful look in ‘is eye: “My wife cums fra Lancashire.”
At fust, it wer a marriage made in ‘eaven. She produced lots o’ milk ivvry day so ah wer reight chuffed. In fact, ah wer so pleased, ah bought a ‘huge bull ter mate wi’ ‘er, ter build up me heard, an’ ter nivver ‘ave ter worry abaat mi milk supply agayen.
Ah decided ter call ‘im ‘Tiny’ on account o’ im bein’ particularly well endowed. An’ one sunny mornin’ ah walked ‘im up ter pasture wayer Mable resided. Well Tiny wer certainly up f’ carryin’ aat ‘is duties, but whenivver ‘e tried ter mount ‘er, she’d move away. No matter wot approach Tiny tried, Mable wud move away fra ‘im, so ‘e wer nivver able ter do t’ deed."
“Well ah’ll go ter t’ foot o’ our stairs”, ah says. “Ah’ve nivver ‘eard o’ that afore!”
“Aye, days an’ weeks passed wi both mi-sen an’ Tiny bein’ equally as frustrated”, continued Big Ron. “Eventually, ah decides ter call in on yon expert fra Veterinary centre at Thirsk. T’ bloke ‘ad a reputation f’ bein’ very wise.
Ah says to ‘im, "Whenever t’ bull tries to mount our Mable, she moves away. If ‘e approaches fra t’ back, she moves fo’ward. When ‘e approaches ‘er fra t’ front, she backs off. If ‘e attempts fra t’ side, she walks away ter t’ other."
T’ vet rubbed ‘is chin thoughtfully an’ pondered t’ problem f’ a while afore askin’,
"Did thee by chance, buy t’ cow in Lancashire?"
Ah wer gobsmacked, as ah’d nivver mentioned wayer ah’d bought Mable!
"Bloody ‘ell’, tha’s either a fortune teller ooer a truly wise vet," ah says, “Ow did tha know wayer ah bought t’ cow?”
T’ vet replied wi a distant wistful look in ‘is eye: “My wife cums fra Lancashire.”
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