Ok. Have done a serious post. Time for something a little lighthearted!!!!

A while ago I was listening to the radio when the racing tipster came on and urged us to stick our wages, our overdrafts and whatever we could find down the back of the sofa on a glue factory nag called Mymumsaysimthebest which is patently ridiculous. Not only would our Equine friends have the good sense to put breaks in the accepted places between words but also, with the noted and illustrious exception of Mr Ed, horses can't talk.
But it got me thinking how much of a shit life these beasts have. Firstly their diet consists of little more than dried porridge, which the addition of grass can't do much to liven up. Then they are compelled to run their arses off by a 4 foot midget who thinks its kind of cute to sit on their backs and who is also struggling with his repressed sado masochistic feelings by carrying a whip. And then there are the stupid names that they shamefully have to endure for their lifetime such as (and these are real examples) Red Suede Shoes and Big Fella Thanks. It almost makes you wish that horses could talk so they colud tell their owners to fuck off, kick the bolivian marching powder and not come back until they had thought up a sensible moniker like, well like Ed "and that will be Mr Ed to you as well you mug".
Honestly.......