Steering Clear of Pig Puns

These aren't good times to get out of bed. Even walking home has become an extreme sport since you might get caught up in some enthusiastic opinion-sharing, in which case you have to run away for fear of being forcibly persuaded to the ground and dying of internal bleeding. Not that you will necessarily, you might die of a simple heart attack. Possibly brought on by the surprise of not having internal bleeding. A fellow could be forgiven for wanting to go on holiday.

Holidaying is a risky business though, mostly because you'll risk (more) death from swine flu. What is swine flu? I found this helpfull diagram on the BBC website which explains it for those who think 'swine' is simply someone that comes from Swindon:

I can feel smug vegetarian faces bearing down on me already, suggesting that if I had spent less time eating pigs/cows/chickens then they wouldn't insist on retreating to their barns with chemistry sets to create new and terrifying ways of ruining our summer with germ warfare. The cows' attack was the worst of course, infected as they were like bovine suicide bombers. However they weren't counting on the farmers' secret weapon: disinfectant-soaked straw. "Drat" they mooed as they were herded into fields of burning cattle, from which the press gave us images that resembled a holocaust illustrated by Gary Larson. Now the pigs have unleashed swine flu upon Mexico (soon the world) and we don't know what we're going to do about it so we'll all just have to stay home and eat grass that still smells faintly of sunday roast.

Of course, it's really not all that bleak. If it was, then the following wouldn't be true:

Blue are reuniting for a summer concert.

I know. Brilliant. Is it Christmas? It must be because I can't remember the last time I felt this lucky. More grass?

Cow and Matey

I was at a friend’s house last night and in their bathroom was a bottle of shower gel with a farmyard motif, labeled ‘Daisy Fragranced’. Oh, and the lid was a rubber cow’s head. I can see what they’re going for, they have seen Jean Paul Gaultier’s ‘Le Male’ and thought they’d get in on the act. What has escaped them of course is that whilst people may wish to smell of man, they rarely wish to smell of cow.