I am a ninja!!

First an apology. You've probably noticed my little diary has been a bit quiet the last few weeks. Being in the Beano on a regular basis has made me pretty famous and I've become very popular on the after-dinner speech circuit. I've actually been doing a tour of sheep barns enrapturing audiences. (I learnt the word "enrapturing" the other day off a very brainy rabbit. Apparently my eyeballs are "enrapturing", and I was completely hooked thereafter. Isn't it brilliant? I'll be using it much more often from now on to impress my mates.)

Anyway, I've toured the barns of London, Hemsby, Romford, Ipswich, upper Coventry, Eccles, Padstow, Cheddar, Dairylea and Loch Ness and met many lovely sheep who thought I was funny and had great presents.

So I'm back (hooray), and I need to let you know what happened at our big meeting!!!

Basically we all decided that we weren't going to buy Bernard back as we all recounted our past experiences with him and remembered quite vividly how stupid and smelly he was. We all loved our great new goat Harold and had no wish to swap him back. So we drafted a letter to Farmer Jack saying something like "Dear Farmer Jack. We love Harold and don't want to see Bernard again even if he turns up out of nowhere, out of the blue." Des Duck wrote the letter as he had the best handwriting and he gets a bit funny if anyone else writes anything. Stupid duck.
We then had one of the best parties in living memory! I lived up to my nickname "Hot Hooves" as I shook my booty on the dance-floor. Everyone was well impressed with my depiction of The White Stripes doorbell ringing and my Beyonce bottom wobbling thing that she does. Lenny done his usual Britney number (which is getting a bit boring now, most people headed for the buffet at that point.)
And boy the food was great! We had a jokey turnip flavour to the whole thing with turnip pizzas, turnip sausages, turnip cakes, that sort of thing. We all had a toast to Bernard and three cheers to Harold and the last thing I remember was dressing up as Tarzan and Lenny was my monkey and we had a big fight with Nigel who pretended to be a crocodile.

I woke up in a hedge at four o'clock the next morning.

As for Fat Tony, me, Lenny and our mate Ginger the ninja dressed up as er..ninjas last night and sneaked up on him while he slept. We didn't need to be particularly quiet as his snoring was very loud and no other noises could be heard. We grabbed his stupid Swedish Turnip thingy and squashed it on his head (it was pretty squidgy and mouldy by then).

"Eat that you fat bogey!!" I think we shouted at him, then we run off with high fives flying all over the place and decided that was a job well done!!

Bum note

Well here's that ransom note everyone's been speculating about. I was meant to put it on here a couple of days ago, but it blew away in the wind. Fortunately Chris sparrow found it up his tree a couple of fields away this morning.

What do you think? Is it genuine? I'm not even sure it looks like Bernard myself, it looks more like King Charles the First with that silly haircut. Unless of course Bernard's been roughed up and he's let his hair go a bit. He always looked after his curly locks that Bernard, you rarely found him far away from a bottle of shampoo and conditioner. Or pants.

I have my suspicions and I reckon a certain pigeon is having me on. Anyway £1000 is a lot of money for a turnip, or even a goat and we've got Harold now anyway, so we're not likely to cough up that sort of cash.

we're having a big meeting tomorrow in the barn to see what we can do. I'll let you know the outcome. I like meetings, we always end up having a brilliant disco after with a finger buffet.

Uh oh...

Worrying development in the search for Bernard saga...

I think he's been kidnapped....

More news tomorrow.

Meanwhile, here's a picture of Bernard as he's fondly remembered.. scoffing a pair of old underpants.

Have you seen me???

Well, here's a poster to help find Bernard. We've put it up all around the farm, so let's hope he turns up!
Thanks for the idea Molyan! You're a genius.

If this don't work, nothing will.

Oops!

Blimey! Me and the gang have been so busy trying to figure out what happened to Bernard, that I forgot to tell you to rush out and buy this week's Beano!!!
I'm in it!! The story is brilliant as usual and introduces no less than THREE new characters; Doris the Bee, Cecil's sister; Big Baz, the farm bully and Mad Nigel his stupid mate.
Check out the colouring too which is all down to me and Lenny. Isn't it sparkly and lovely? You wait till you see next month's! You'll need to wear sunglasses cos the colouring is so zingy.

Bernard update: There was a turnip seen rolling about on a bus last tuesday, as spotted by Reggie Bull. He nearly ate it too, but he says he doesn't eat food that's been on the floor (Which isn't true. I've seen him eat a jelly tot that was lying on the road once. What a pig).

Flippin' 'eck!! Where's Bernard?

I was having a chat to my great new pal Harold and I mentioned Bernard the goat and how he'd turned into a turnip. Harold was keen to see him (not to eat him I hope!) so me and Lenny got out the box we keep him in under our secret bale of hay and BERNARD WAS GONE!!

The box was flippin' empty!! No one could remember the last time we'd looked inside. Lenny said it was maybe last Saturday or perhaps Thursday, he wasn't sure as he always gets those two mixed up. I definitely remember sticking in a bit of lettuce on Wednesday (he loved lettuce our Bernard), but I've been so busy the last few days I haven't even thought of looking to see if he was ok.
Harold noticed there was a spider in the box and gave him a right grilling! Turns out the spider only moved in yesterday and there weren't no goats there then. There was a bit of lettuce but he ate that. I thought spiders only ate flies and things? Who knows.

Then Lenny started shouting at the spider and pretty much accused him of eating Bernard.
"You've eaten Bernard you stupid insect!!" he screamed. That really upset the spider (spiders aren't insects apparently. They sure look like insects to me!), so he upped sticks and left in a right huff. His passing words were, "I'm moving back to Birmingham! It might have mad weather, but at least people treat me with RESPECT!".

I'm sure Birmingham's 300 miles away, which must be about a million miles in spider miles. I hope his legs wear out! Fancy eating our goat! Stupid spider.

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!