When It's About A Cop, And A Cow.
So, it's the day after the day before, and my part Irish descendency logic springs to mind, as does this crazy-arse, continuing story of the cop and the cow.
Well, subject to confirmation, of course, the cow now has an agent busy negotiating deals on the hoof of potential television deals that by all accounts are a plenty. This new celebrity on the circuit has finally been given a name, because 'cow' wouldn't have been a branding that trips off the tongue, let alone the hide where the promotion of a new celebrity in town is concerned, and remains 'hot in this fickle world of current news.
Yes, 'Beau Lucy' has become the new celeb, the five-minute wonder everyone who enjoys a full Sunday roast is suddenly celebrating. From a column in Farmers Weekly to breakfast television, and possibly even the ultimate interview in anyone's showbiz career, a pre-recorded one-to-one with no other than the doyen of major interviews, Piers Morgan will all be on offer.
Meanwhile, the poor police officer who ran over the now famous 'Beau Lucy' has been taken off frontline duties, which, by the way, bears no relation whatsoever to being relieved of duties applying anti-flea medication to domestic pets.
This is an entirely different frontline.
But still the fuckwit commentators whinge, whine and would almost have this officer hung, drawn, and quartered for daring such a "brutal" arrest on poor young 'Beau Lucy'. Outpourings on social media from the adult nappy-wearing brigade describe the police officer in terms such as "Monster" that would be more befitting of a child rapist, or mass murderer than a loose bovine. I suppose next they'll be asking for it to be sent off for some counselling. You know, a bit of psycowtherapy!
Give me a break, and go suck on a nice soothing teat, you wallies. Go find a hard shoulder to cry on. I'd highly recommend both the M25 and the M1, for starters. Oh, and choose rush hour time, preferably. Just lay down on the road and all your troubles will be over real soon. I guarantee.
Oh yes, and back to the deliciously fried, stewed, and roasted, 'Beau Lucy' potential menu item, you can bet your sweet arse that everyone, even the M&S meat buyer will be clamouring for a piece of 'Beau Lucy' while she's still hot property and there's money on the table, dead or alive, as this animal continues to have her life ahead carved out, and all and sundry continue to milk this story for all it's worth.
But not me, guv. I'm done with all this ribbing, for now at least. And so, to udder stories. Or not, as the case may be. Speaking of M&S, as referred to a paragraph back, I was in my local store earlier today, speaking with someone possibly as equally sane as myself by the frozen food section, who I discovered was an escapee from the Jehova Witness mob as I was from the Catholic Church.
This is by no means the first conversation we've shared. But the first time that he revealed to me his escape, and in the absence of any 'Wanted/Reward Offered' posters anywhere within the suburbs of Bristol, I frequent, my conclusion that possible cosmetic surgery reconstruction, combined with a total change of other means of identity suggests his new life is working out well. Although, admittedly we may not be entirely on the same page politically I did appear to strike some accord on the mention of satire, and, if you're the guy who just happens to be reading this blog post right now, don't worry, your secret new identity is safe with me.
