28 February 2007
Horses
March 1st 1856
I know what you’re probably thinking at this point: how many horses do I own, and what are they called?
Well, dear reader, I shall tell you.
I own five horses, and they are named as follows:
Sir Cloppington – my favourite horse, a proud, black stallion with hundreds of miles on the clock. Sir Cloppington is the very horse I chose to pull our carriage as we hastened to London Town on our adventure.
Reynolds – a fine, grey horse with an excellent top speed, but alas, a rather small penis.
Winchester – brown. Goes like a rocket, but only for a few seconds before tiring himself out. The poor old bastard is rather advanced in years, but I cannot abide to have him shot yet, as it will mean finding another horse.
The Cunt – a black horse with a ferocious temper. I rarely use The Cunt, preferring instead to lend him to people I do not like very much, in the hope they will break their necks on him.
Filthy Arab – my racehorse. Good at racing, unsurprisingly, but a terrible lover.
As you can see, I have a fine selection of horses indeed.
I’ve quite forgotten why I mentioned this. Ah well.
