Just as our lives were becoming bored stiff with the General Election bullshit coming at us from all angles, with no escape other than a full board, padded room until July the whatever because I'm way past caring, an errant bovine roaming the streets of a south London suburb suddenly becomes news headlines and all else in the world instantly becomes a mere blip in yesterdays memory with this Fresian having greater importance than the toolmaker's son and his oppo, the Sky deficient, mini suit size currently residing in London's second-best-known residential address.