New Story

Had a bit of a shock to see I'm in next week's Beano. I was only in there a couple of weeks ago! Blimey, I'll be in there weekly at this rate.
Here's a sneaky look at Cecil's sister Doris (no relation to Fat Tony's girlfriend).

Me and my pal Harold

I must say Harold has turned out to be a lovely bloke. It's nice to actually have a conversation with someone on an interlectrical level the same as me.
You know, I've often found myself stood in my field desperate for conversation about the latest poetry, or maybe discuss the finer details of Rolf Harris' latest masterpiece in oil. But all the conversations round 'ere tend to be about cowpats, ducks, the way the wind blows one way and then the other or "do worms have eyes?".
Me and Harold had a lovely chat about steam trains yesterday. I've never seen a steam train, or even heard of one before yesterday, but I successfully pretended to Harold that I'd written a book on "Steam Trains Through the Centuries". He was most curious about my "knowledge" of the early steam trains used by Roman armies in 300BC and how they'd used them to carry lots of soldiers around and conquer the world. little did he know that I'd made up every word. He wants to see a copy, so I'll have to get scribbling.

We also discussed the shapes of clouds and how they might possibly be real animals that roam the skies looking for food (aeroplanes?). A frightening thought. You won't get me on one of them planes now!!

Lenny tried to join in, but how can you take anyone seriously when they've got half a jam doughnut plastered all over his gob? I don't think Harold likes Lenny "he's a bit of a plank" was his words. And you know what, I think I agree!

King Harold

Apparently Harold is a very rare goat, so he says. Something about his family being bred especially for King Louis the 14th of France or something, back in the late 1600s. Seems King Louis was partial to chocolate milkshakes made with the finest goats milk.
I wasn't too impressed myself, but now Lenny's got everyone bowing everytime Harold walks past. "It ain't often you see royalty round these parts" says Lenny, and Harold is loving every bit of it.

He reckons his family escaped the French Revolution and fled on a boat over to Dover and they were hidden secretly away by a kindly farmer. Why would anyone be interested in arresting a stupid goat anyway?? All sounds suspicious to me. Then Harold showed us his secret locket which he hangs around his neck. Inside is the old toenail of his great-great-great grandfather who came over from France. Could've been any old manky toenail really, but everyone "oohed" and "aahed" all the same. Believe anything that lot.
I showed them my tonsils which I keep in a jar and told them it was King Henry the 8th's pet kippers found hidden under the stairs of the Tower of London in 1972. And they believed that too!!

What a bunch of bananas.

Harold the Goat

Do you remember Bernard the goat? You know annoying bearded thing that eats everything from underpants to old newspapers? Well regular readers will know that Bernard is now a turnip and we keep him in a box to make sure no one eats him. Cos, like you know one day he might grow back into a goat again. Stranger things have happened at sea.

Well anyway, Farmer Jack's gone and bought another goat on the assumption that Bernard's run off somewhere and ain't coming back (It's a fair assumption. Bob Chicken did try and tell Farmer Jack that Bernard's a turnip nowadays, but I think that all that Farmer Jack heard was "Cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck.", 'cos he don't speak chicken.).

So this new goat; Harold is his name and nobody likes him one bit!! He struts about like he owns the place, shouting orders at the ducks; telling Larry the horse all about the ways and wherefores of growing vegetables; nagging the cows about all their cowpats everywhere. And he's SO BORING!!! He don't stop yapping!!! Rabbitting on about clouds in the sky, how aeroplanes fly (actually that was quite interesting), telling me I should walk with a better posture otherwise I'll end up bow-legged in my old age. Flippin' cheek. He still eats underpants though, so that's a plus. But, blimey he's coming over tomorrow to tell me and Lenny all about the history of the Industrial Revolution in the 19th Century. Oh joy.

Come back Bernard, all is forgiven, that's what I say!

Hooray! I'm in the Beano! Again!

A lovely new story starring me, Lenny (poorly acted as usual), Cecil (uninvited I must add) plus a small selection of wannabes desperate to get their faces in the Beano (shame on you!) is in this week's issue!! Is it me, or does a new adventure of Derek the Sheep appearing in the Beano put a spring in your step?

Boxing match!

Today we re-enacted the Battle of Trafalgar in honour of it's 50th Anniversary. We're well up on our history round 'ere and I played Nelson, Lenny was Lord Wellington and Cecil was Napoleon. Actually there was a bit of a scrap over who would play Nelson and seeing as I got a poke in the eye I ended up looking most like him. Cecil didn't mind, as his mum always said he looked a bit like Napoleon and in fact on her grandfather's side you can trace the family line back to one of his girlfriends who was born in 1283.

We all had boxes as boats tied round our waists (see pic) and we just kept charging into each other until the war was over. It was pretty accurate we reckon. I had to pretend to kop it at the end and Lenny said something about Cecil had to give me a kiss (Nelson's last words apparently), but I weren't having none of that.
Barry chicken then appeared and made bizarre roaring noises and started biting our ankles. After a swift kick where it hurts, he explained he was one of the big lions in Trafalgar square that would have eaten half the French Navy. We felt very stupid as we'd forgotten this important fact and apologised to Barry for leaving that bit out and kicking him. He's a bit of a stickler for facts is our Baz, and if you want to know anything about history or volcanoes, he's your chicken.

Something I meant to post last week is this great picture from Menaceman. He sent it to me minutes after I posted my own pic and had spookily guessed that I'd worn a pair of bright red underpants as opposed to any other colour. Very strange. It's a fab pic, thanks Menaceman, and don't forget to check out his own website of groovy cartoons about him and his mates, called er.. Mates!

Phew wot a scorcher

Crumbs it hot this week. Especially when you've got lots of work to do, like us sheep have. After an hour or so of sunbathing, we ate a bit of grass (it's gone a bit dry and tasted more like straw), then we wandered over to the chicken yard where they were having a tennis competition. Tim chicken was popular with the ladies, and was very dashing on the court. Nice back-hand/wing too, but terrible serve. He grunted like a loony too. I hate grunting in tennis, it's weird. Unless of course pigs are playing, then you can't tell if they're just grunting away as normal or "tennis-grunting", so it doesn't matter.

Anyway, after tennis we had strawberries and ice-cream with lots of chocolate sauce (which Lenny ALWAYS gets down his belly, the slob) and we wandered over to the pond and threw bread at the ducks. I got three right on the bonce and copped Charlie duck right between the eyes! It was a beautiful shot. If only Darren (he's a sheep) hadn't dropped the videocamera and smashed it to smithereens, we could've taped it and sent it to Harry Hill and made £250. It wasn't our camera anyhow, we borrowed it of Annie Cow, so we weren't too heartbroken.

Flippin' eck what a day! I'm bushed!!! And I can't sleep cos it's so hot.
Oh well, more of the same tomorrow probably...


It's all happening in Duckshire too! Fat Tony seems to be getting fatter by the day I reckon. I love that photo of the interview. Wot a laugh!

By popular demand...

Well here it is! When Moldova didn't win the Eurovision Song contest, I promised to run around the field with a pair of underpants on my head..

It was also just my luck it was pouring down with rain, so I got completely flippin' soaked too. Everybody had a right old laugh of course. The pants were a pair of Farmer Jack's which Nelly Goose pinched off his washing line when he wasn't looking. She couldn't have picked a finer pair.
At least they were clean I suppose!
Everyone was cheering and clapping as I scampered round and I wished the earth could've opened up and swallowed me whole. Even a worm laughed at me and called me "Pants-face" which isn't even remotely funny.

Use the Force!

Check out this wicked pic sent in from Alistair Stuart, AKA Menaceman, regular poster to this site.


Here's what Menaceman had to say,
"This is what I imagine you do after you've had a very bad day to get rid of your anger. I was going to make the punchbag green but thought that you wouldn't hit anything green because it would remind you of grass and that must be the one and only thing you don't hate."

Too right Menaceman!! There are some bees and sheep round 'ere that get right on my nerves and maybe a punchbag could be the answer to relieve the tension. I did try yoga once after Bernard the goat accidently knocked me into a puddle (I ended up right on my bottom!). Unfortunately I got my back left leg twisted round my neck and I was stuck like that for three days. Luckily Lenny kicked me really hard up the bum, and I was suddenly unravelled. Hooray! I won't go anywhere near yoga now, not even yoghurt, which sounds a bit like yoga. Sort of.

Thanks dude! One loverly sketch winging it's way very soon.

I'm back from my weekend break!

Hello! Did you miss me? I nipped over to Wales for the weekend to visit my Welsh cousins. I don't see them that often now that I'm an international mega-star. It was great to see them all again and aunty Joyce kept me well fed with Welsh cakes and lavabread (which is actually seaweed and looks gross but is very nice actually). It's always cold in Wales and flippin' eck there was a nasty nip in the air. It didn't rain though and it ALWAYS rains in Wales. So that was good.
It was a shame it was such a short visit, but I'm sure I'll be back again soon.
I took some photos of my cousins so I'll post them later.

I had a bit of fan-mail while I was away. This one was from Nigel Wilkes:

Dear Derek,
I work in an office across a road from a field full of sheep. Normally the atmosphere is quiet and serene, but a couple of days ago the amount of bleating grew to piteous levels. It turns out that it's shearing time! I can tell you, there's a lot of seriously unhappy (and unfashionable) sheep out there. Now you are no longer a turnip, you better watch out. I have attached an artist's impression of the fate that may be awaiting you. A concerned Derek fan
alias Nigel



Thanks Nigel!
You're right, it's shearing time and your pic is pretty scary but your local sheep sound like a big bunch of girls blouses. My Welsh cousins' flock is in the middle of being sheared at the moment and those that ain't sheared yet look fairly rough and ready, so although it's a frightening prospect, it's quite necessary if you want to look tidy. Keeps the nits off too. (What's that stupid mole laughing at anyway? Who wants to be a stupid mole? They eat worms! Yuk!!)

More fan-mail in the week!

We're un-turnipped! (is that a word?)

Hooray! We're not turnips anymore!! Well Benard the goat still is, but other than that everything's back to normally. Isn't that great? You wait till I see that Leprechaun, I'll turn him into a flippin' turnip. Still, it didn't stop us going about our daily business and we watched Star Wars without a hitch.
Lenny's still not talking to me though. I don't know what his stupid balloon said about me (maybe that I smell or something), but he won't even look at me, let alone say hello.

Anyway, we've decided to keep Bernard the Turnip in a box until he gets better, just in case someone accidently eats him.

Revenge of the Turnip

We're still turnips. Oh yes. And if that isn't bad enough, yesterday was my birthday (hooray!), so I spent an entire birthday transmorgified into a turnip. That'll be one birthday I won't forget. Also, we'd prebooked tickets to go and watch "Revenge of the Sith" at the local cinema as a treat and not wanting to have wasted money we still went along.
Fortunately we'd booked the entire front row (there were ten of us) so we didn't have to worry about not seeing it properly. We did get a few funny looks I'll admit, but the cinema staff didn't blink an eye. The only worrying bit was when they asked if we had an adult with us (it's a PG film), so we pointed to Bernard, but seeing as he was a turnip like the rest of us and all turnips look the same, they couldn't argue really.

What a great film though! Flippin' eck! Best Star Wars film of all I reckon!! It was a bit depressing though, and nobody really talked to each other on the bus home. I was just thinking about those poor younglings...

I am a turnip. No really, I am.

Do you remember that Irish Leprechaun chap who turned up last summer and threatened to turn us all into turnips if we upset him again?
Well he came back today and Kevin rabbit accidently poked him in the eye with a carrot (I think he was giving directions). So he got really mad and has actually turned us all into turnips!

Which is brilliant. We can still talk and roll on our sides to get around, but it's just not the same really. Lenny doesn't seem to mind though and seems to be quite happy. He lost his balloon too (didn't quite have the grip to hold onto it), but he's not as bothered as I'd expected.
Maybe now that we're turnips, we might be able to become good friends again!

Derek Von Doom

Here's that lovely picture sent in from Ashley, and what a grand pic it is too! There's a sketch winging it's way to you young man. Thanks a bunch!

I think I'm meant to be Dr Doom, evil nemesis of the Fantastic Four. Cool!

Moldova to win!!

We love the Eurovision Song Contest and we normally have a bit of a barn dance ourselves to get into the spirit of things (I'm the best of course, Hot Hooves they call me).
We all watched the semi finals excitedly on BBC 3 (we're extravagently rich enough to afford satellite now we're in the Beano) and we all voted madly for Moldova and their brilliant song Boonika bate doba which means "Grandmamma beats the drum-a".
And we love Grandmamma round here too! She's the coolest drummer in the world!

The lyrics are fantastic too!
"She’s a drum machine, you know what I mean"
and...
"Pop you up with dat beat Get rid of rotten meat"
and of course...
"Grandmamma beats the drum-a with the mallet in the big house!"
She'll be a superstar, you mark my words. And as the song finally says "By the end of that show you‘ll blow yourself to bits". Well I hope not!

The group even have an album called 450 Sheep How brilliant is that? Cecil's trying to work out how we can buy a copy.

Nobby's gone nuts

They say 'fame' is a wild and dangerous animal. There are some of us who can deal with it and go about our business as if being famous is normal, we eat our grass, discuss our latest adventures to all who'll listen, even when they start walking away, because that's what people want; and then there are others who can't cope and it all goes to their heads and they spend all their money on mars bars and diet tango and wear sunglasses signing autographs for people who have no idea who they are. Those people are called Nobby the hedgehog and all his new found fame has gone right to his little prickly head.
I'm mean flippin' 'eck, normally it's me who gets to open any new local supermarkets or appear at local fetes, but no, now everyone wants to see the stupid little hedgehog and apparently he pulls in "twice the money", which is very hard to believe.
And to cap it all, literally, Nobby's bought himself a new sparkly bowler hat, because "his fans wouldn't expect anything less".



Who needs a sparkly hat, eh? Not me! Not when you've got a lovable face like mine.

Hello?

There ain't no "Armadillo" song here

May I just apologise to all those people who come here looking for that "Road to Armadillo" song via google. What it was right, is that a ladybird was singing it the other week and it got right on my nerves, so I put it in a pot. Then everybody told me off and said I was horrible, there was a big riot involving chickens and beetles and goats and everything and in the end I broke the pot on my mate Lenny's head (Lenny's a sheep too) by dropping it from a tree and then the ladybird flew away, but not before it punched me in the chops. Ok?

I hope that clears that one up.

Buy The Beano!

I'm rushing about this week, so I've just got time to tell you that I'm in the Beano this week!
It's a silly story with Nobby the hedgehog getting on my nerves (doesn't everybody?)
Enjoy! Sorry, must dash!!!

Would you say I'm miserable? Someone said I'm miserable today and it upset me. They said I had a face "Like a bulldog chewing a wasp". How would they know? Is that something bulldogs do often?
I wonder if Cecil's ever been chewed by a bulldog? Although he's a bee, so he'd probably get chewed by a yorkshire terrier or something. He's never mentioned it if he has, and if you're gonna get chewed by a dog, you're bound to mention it at some point.
It was Monday morning after all, so I reckon I was allowed to be miserable, everyone else seems to be! Not that I think I was. I was just eating straw and imagining what the new Star Wars film might be like and maybe I was imagining all the "dark evil" we've been promised and my face does tend to reflect my current thoughts. "Like little windows to your soul" is how Bernard the goat described my eyes once (which makes a change from "a couple of mad ping pong balls" which is the normal description from friends and family). I kicked him up the bum for saying that, mind; I didn't know what he meant and it was the only way I knew how to react. He's a bit strange that Bernard.