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!