In the Scouts...
...we were dumped just outside of Didcot, and told to hike back to our HQ, some twenty miles away on the other side of Reading.

Sod that for a laugh - my plan was to cut across the fields down to the main road and get a bus. Be Prepared, as they say, and I was prepared with bus fare.

Unfortunately, the sheep saw us first. Dreadful killer sheep, which latched onto the weakest member of our group, and hove in for the kill.

"Baa!" they said, obviously short for "Baa-stard!"

Greebo watched open-mouthed as the sheep gave that whole grass-eating business a rest and charged. Straight at him.

There was a distant scream, and he fled. Fled for his life.

He might have made it too, if it were not for the fact that the mud made his progress something like wading through treacle, while Cuddles seemingly flew across the sodden meadow.

Then, he went down, and Cuddles was upon him, giving him the bleating of his life.

Alas, the other sheep thought this was an excellent idea, and poor, dead Greebo was engulfed in a white, fluffy tide.

Sickened, we were. What a way to go.

Eventually, a mud-spattered and bruised wraith eventually appeared out of the setting sun, dragging the remains of his rucksack behind him, covered head to toe with sheeps' poop.

The bus driver took one look and told us to bugger off. Stupid killer sheep.

Full 12-inch version, you say? With pictures by B3TA's very own Down on the Farm? Why, HERE.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 15:01, Reply)