Well youre never goin ta believe me but its Christmas already. You know, dat toime o'year when all of us get a bit o'Farder Christmas into us (except Mammy Christmas who will atleast get one noight away from da sherry soaked auld git and his bulging sack). Oi cants hardly believe where da year has gone. And wherever it went, Oi wish it hed taken dat work shoiy, lazy son of a hedorroid wid it!
But before Oi begin, Oive got ta announce da winner o'moi Spot Da Lucky Clover competition...and it was.... Joanne Cree! Congratulations !!! Moi Mum will be in touch soon so watch ya hemails !
Now, Oi cants put dis off much longer; Oive got some awful news for ya all. Some of ya moight know dat dat colossal arsewoipe Buddy Pisspants has been heving a few "quiote" weeks after troiying ta rip off his front foot, and, as if DAT wasnt enough, just after he was passed fit, he only went and trowed a shoe for anudder mini-break - and just when Oi, meself, was tinking o'hevin a turn in da vets wid a spot o'da auld "cant be boddered"s. Acourse, just ta add hinsult ta injury, he's been spending his days in moi spare box, just SO he can HEV a view of da fields whoile he's in boiy hisself. Acourse, me and Moilo hev been careful ta make sure dat we stand roight behoind da field shelters, just ta make sure he knows he's alone. Not dat he's boddered. Da freak. Infact, Dads even taken down da stable mirror Oi used ta hev in dere. Apparantly, Buddys so ugly dat everytoime he looked it in, it ducked. Da only “upsoide” is dat if Oi squints moi eoiyes up, he looks just loike he's in prison....
Acourse whoilst he's been tucked up in da warm, listening to da radio and wearing moi ARC Equine, yours truly has been floying back and forth loike a pensioner wid a coupon caught in da sloiding doors at Waitrose. So wheres Oi been ? Oi'll start wid Keysoe
Now, Oim not going ta lie to ya - square dancing isnt really Dads ting. Da minute da judge dings da bell, Dad gets toighter dan a camels arse in a sand storm. And well, he was no better at Keysoe, so he wasnt. Oi hed ta refuse ta "henter at A " for a full minute and fling moiself around on da edge of da next harena along until da loife was foinally sucked roight out o'him and he was ready ta start. Oim not sure if da judge thought he was saluting at da end of our test, or signalling fa help, but boiy da toime we was finished, Dad was barely clinging on.
As for da rest o'da day, well Oim going ta gloss over it but lets just say dat it panned out worse dan a 10 inch turd in a continental bidet. Infact if it hed not been fa Dad fagetting where da finishing flags were, Oi would hev come away wid less points dan Josie Mourinio. As it happened, even dat lapse o'memory could only get us one piddling toime fault, even though we walked da last 50 yards of da course. Oi ask ya, toight fisted stewards. And den, just when Oi was tinking tings couldnt get much worse, dey only went and did....
Now Oi HAD heard dat dere was every chance dat we wouldnt be going ta Brooksby College,what wid Buddy's entry being pulled ( now DERES a job Oi wouldnt want, not fa all da tea in Choina). But as soon as Mum heard dat Coltsfoot Equestrian would be dere, Oi was forced inta da smoke moboile fa “one last run”. Acourse, what she really wanted was one o'dem fancy head-beavers dey sell. Oh da oirony ! Dere she is wedging her head into some poor acrylic animal, and all da whoile shes planning ta shave moi head bald da minute dere's a frost on da ground. Da filthy hypocrite.
Now Oim not one ta complain, as ya know, but boiy da toime Oi got dere, Oi was busting for a pee and so it was no suproise to me dat when Mum heaved up moi goirth, da sheer force o'piddle building up back dere made moi teeth leap out o'moi mouth and grab her boiy da arm. Well, she went MENTAL, leaping up and down and hollering for all da world ta hear. Oi panicked, she panicked and somewhere in all da panic, one of us farted. It was such a clacker dat we both spooked and, would ya believe it, Oi landed wid one o'moi feet roight on top o'one o'hers.... Well you should hev seen her, hoping about clutching her arm and swearing blue murder. She's got a filthy mouth, so she has. Even Dad hed to tell her so.
And so dere Oi was, at da last hevent o'da season, wid just da one remaining stab left of foinding Glory. You know, dat ting Oive been searching for, dat one reason ta get up in da morning; moi own “Holy Fail”. And Oi found it,roight dere, at Brooksby. Ya see, boiy da toime dey started us Across da Country, it was so dark dat da fence judges needed noight vision googles. Dad was getting twitchy boiy now and so when da starter shouted “go” we were out o'dat box and over da foirst loike da devoil hisself was after us. As we set off towards fence number two, Oi thort Oi could just make out a long round shadow, jumping up and down behoind us as we sailed off inta da gloom. And it wasnt until we reached da finish dat we heard da ladies in da Come Up Later box announcing dat we hed jumped da wrong foirst fence. And dere it was. Da pinnacle o'moi career. Da much fought for “BIG FAT E”. Well, Dad was spitting fedders. He flounced back to da lorry wid Mum hopping along behoind wid her potty mouth. Turns out dat dat “long round shadow” Oi'd seen at da start hed been Mum, howling wid dispair as she watched a hundred pounds wort o'hentries go down da shitter, again.
But no, wait, it couldn hev ended loike dat, could it ? Oi hed barely got moi hooves back onto da lorry before news broke dat defeat was being snatched from da jaws o'victory....Some eejit found a rule dat meant dat dey could take away moi Holy Fail faster dan Social Services at a Benefit Street christening. Oi mean you'd hev ta be joking, surely ? Its enough ta send a fella doolally, sure it is.
And talking o'doolally fellas... Oi best be getting on. Christmas is coming and Oive still got Buddys parcels ta wrap. Just hope dey dont leak through da paper... Oi dont want him guessing what Oim giving him before he's unwrapped dem....
Merry Christmas everyone and keep an eoiye out for moi Bits in 2016.
NEWS FLASH, sadly tings hev gone down hill fa Buddy... he's back out jumping next weekend. Ha ha ha ! What a loser !! Now, wheres moi shoe pullers ? Oi can feel a holiday coming on...
Tree Kings artwork kindly supplied by Weezy Lamb Designs .. www.facebook.com/WeezyLambDesign
As ever Chester's Bits supported by Coltsfoot Equestrian
Top Of Da Morning to ya !! Moi names Chester Da Floying Oirishman and incase ya havent heard o'me before now, Oi'll start wid a quick ketchup ...
Oi was born in Oirland and told dat Oi was gonna be a racehorse. Dey called me Mr Mediator on account of moi obliging nature. Acourse Oi wasn’t DAT obliging and after a few races, Oi was shipped over to Taffy land where Oi was told Oi was gonna be a “point ta pointer”. Oi quickly let dem know dat Oi was more Mr Mediocre dan Mr Mediator and after a couple of runs Oi was loaded up and shipped to Suffolk where Oi have lived wid Mum, Dad, auld Moilo and Buddy Da Pissopotomus ever since. One day Oim gonna be an advanced eventer but until den, Oim going to be rubbish… which Oi reckon is a good place ta start. Well, as moi Dad says; if ya cant Mediate, whoiy not Humiliate ? Oi loves moi Dad, so Oi do. He never asks me ta do something he wouldn't do hisself.. just looks at him here, checking out da landing. What a goon.
Now ya moights be tinking "ah, sure, dis fella sounds loike he knows it all" and you'd be roight. Acourse Oi do. But da fun is in keeping ya humans guessing. Don't go out all guns blazing. Foire off a couple o'bucks foirst and ya bound ta get a massage from a lady wid da soft hands. So if ya hevent been following moi words of advoice over da years, Oi suggest ya follow me closer dan a Hells Angels soide car as, Oi moi days , you've a lot ta learn !!
But afore Oi start telling ya about dodging da polyester, or Buddys bulge, Oi want ta start boiy annoucing someting very excoiting dats happened since Oi moved moi Bits to da Bit UK.
Ya see, moi sponsors Coltsfoot Equestrian hev come wid me and ta celebrate dat, dey are giving away some very exclusive Chesters Bit merchandoise !! Every toime Oi wroites a new Bit, dere will be, hidden in a photo, a toiny lucky clover. All ya need ta do is foind da wee fella, take a photo of it, and email it to me firstname.lastname@example.org One winner will be picked at random and a limited hedition T shirt posted out. Dats easier dan pushing butter up a cats bum wid a hot needle, sure it is.
So, where was Oi ?
Fa followers o'moi auld column, you will know how hard it is for a fella to maintain a record o'mediocrity dese days. What wid all da new scans and tests dey can do ta rule out serious injury, Oi can hardly get a day off. Da last toime Oi managed ta get da vet out was to stick a needle into moi chestickles and pump me full o'drugs. Da vets said it was a Tits and Arse booster; so you hev no oidea how relieved Oi am ta tell ya dat nuttin grew where it shouldn't hev grown.
Sadly Oi cants say da same about Buddy. He went straight out and hed a stop across da country and 4 poles down, so he's never looked more loike a tit or an arse in his loife. Well, atleast not since he bit down on da helectric fencing because Oi said it tasted loike peppermint, only tinglier on ya tongue. Da loon. He'll do almost anyting. And not always just da once ! But den he is a few samwiches short of a picnic...
And acourse if ya follows me on Faceberk, (www.facebook.com/ChesterTheEventer ) you will know what a struggle Oive been hevin lately dodging da dreaded polyester frillies. It started at a place called Arse on Da Walls. Dere Oi was, early one morning, moinding me own beeswax when Dad backs da smoke moboile up da droive under cover o'darkness and drags both me and Buddy inta da back widdout as much as a boiy moi leave. Tree hours later, da ramp foinally comes down and as soon as da brown smoke from Buddys Irritable Bowels clears, Oi can see Oim not at da vets. At dat moment, Buddys guts gave a rumble dat, hed it not been sunny, would hev had everyone running fa cover. Luckily fa me Oi was at da front of a box so Oi was outta dere as fast as Oi could. And just in toime too, as da big fella gave one of dem awkward coughs dat can only mean one ting. And no amount o'Cowboy Magic was going ta get dat stain out.
As soon as Oi was off da lorry, and once Dad had cloimbed aboard, we set off soideways down to da square dancing arena ,ta do moi test, just loike we had rehearsed at home. Now Oim not saying it was a dull test but lately Dads been seeing anudder woman. Yes. Oi tell ya, he has. Her names Lisa Spence. Pronounced loike Six Pence only Oi doubt she's worth half of dat if ya sold her for meat. Deres hardly anyting on her. But Oi doigress. Dads been all "quiety quietly" since he's been going dere. And Oim telling ya, OI DONT LOIKE IT. Not one bit. Sometimes Oi can hardly tell he's up dere at all (apart from da whistling dat comes from his nostrils). So anyway, dere we are, "tick tocking" around in trot loike dat gold medal winning fella Viagra, when suddenly, on da foinal approach of da judges hut, Dad suddenly says "canter, moi fella, canter soideways and den spin, spin fa all ya worth !!". Well. Atleast dats what Oi thort he said. He swears bloind he said "stay straight and halt". But its still, its an easy mistake ta make. Da judge craned her head out of her hut ta see us, halting exactly tree foot to da roight of where she was sitting, and she smoiled dat smoile dat says "never moind fella, Oi can see ya got ya work cut out dere". Oi nodded at her. She's roight. Oi knows Oi hev.
And da day only got worse. Da minute Oi got down to da show jumping, Oi set about hitting as many poles as Oi could. Oi hit just about everyting and just as thort we were going back to da lorry, dey opened da gate and said "in ya go". Oi was too toired boiy now ta aim at da poles and despite tapping a few nervously, and, just loike a midget throwing punches in a Gypsy camp, Oi couldn't get a single one down. Oi wonts go inta details but you can guess da rest. All Oim saying is dat dey must hev cut da cross country course short. Boiy da toime Oi was gearing up ta do moi trademark skid at da second from last, Oi was through da finish flags. Dad started slapping me around da neck and huffing and puffing in moi ear loike a 1970's TV star on da run from da Police. Oh da shame !! If deres once ting Oi hate, its PDA's - which - if you hevent heard of dem -stands fa Public Displays of Awkwardness. Not only was he henging off me loike a giant sweaty carbunkle, he was also shouting dat he loved me ta anyone who would listen. Acourse, Oi was in complete shock. "Oim ill" Oi shouted. But no one heard. Dey were fist pumping, hooting and hollering loike crazed loons.
Its only boiy luck dat Oi dodged da frillie dat day; if Oi hednt charged at da judge just at da roight toime, Oi would hev been talking to ya now from under a poile o'polyester ribbons. Oh, and Oi can tell ya all now dat a double clear is NOT "what its all about". Oi didn't even get seen to boiy da back man when Oi got home. Unloike Buddy acourse... who took dat very opportunity to unveil his secret weapon... "da bulge of doom".
Dere was Oi, cultivating a small patch o'mudfever when along comes Buddy, waving his back leg in da air and shouting "ouch" whenever anyone came looking. And dat flaming eejit only got da noight at da vets dat Oi hed been promising moiself. Well, Oi don't moind admitting dat da minute he was gone, Oi whipped inta his corner box and left him da mudder o'all calling cards, roight besoide his water bucket. Oi couldnt't help but smoile, so Oi couldn't. Lets see him take a sip from DAT bucket widdout gagging, da sneaky git.
Roight, dats it fa now, Oive got ta run. No. Really Oi hev. Dads just turned up in his breeks.
Until next toime... just don't touch moi Bits whoile Oim gone...