My neighbours are cows. Fooking cows.
Last night they kept us awake from 4am with their shenanigans.
You see, having been separated for quite a while, the cows and the Bulls were reunited yesterday evening.
“Moooooh! New Bulls, New Bulls!” the cows mooed at each other on the arrival of the Boyos.
“Moooooooh! Udders! Udders everywhere lads. Quick! Chests up and strut!” roared Billy Big Balls and his buddies.
The cows immediately began to measure up the biggest boyo, while the bulls, each certain of their own alpha-moo-ness, strutted around like feckin Paycocks, shouldering each other out of the way, showing off their Bullsiness and trying to make the other Bulls look less Bullsy.
The Cows flicked their hair, chewed their cuds seductively and plumped their udders, some standing aloof, pretending not to be affected by the arrival of the testosterone, but watching every member of their tribe of fake BFFs with suspicion and jealousy.
When the human neighbours went to bed, all of the competitors were well behaved and seemed to have settled in to their new surroundings. But somewhere in the field, under the romantic half light of the stars, they found Viagara or Red Bull, and possibly some Benweed, which they mixed to form a drink like Yaga-Bullmers?, leading to an early morning Moo-fest.
Some time around 3.30am, their sir-loins could take no more and they gave in to temptation…
And by the sounds of things, every bull had a go on every cow and then they had a fecking singsong to celebrate their rumps being pumped.
This morning, all were calm and knackered, possibly hungover from the mayhem of their party.
Tonight, they’re ready for another session and are already shoulder pumping and stomping.
It’s like they’ve never seen a Moomber of the opposite sex before. And with the heat on, the bets-ies are off.
It’s like an episode of Love Fecking Island here. They’re just not quite as orange.
Cows next door? Never a bull moment…
(c) Maria Rushe