THAT'S WHY WE WEAR GUMBOOTS

Well what a pack of bastards thy've got lurking in the Hutt Valley!
The Old Sheila and I've been looking at apartments in Wellington but might reconsider that now.
The Curmudgeon told me what Angry Jesus and Baxter got up to last night. Bastards! I tell you mate they wouldn't get away with that down here. Me and the boys'd shoot round to their place and boot them up the arse, swords or no bloody swords.

I know, I know, the Chair has suggested taking no direct action and as I live way down South I can't readily do anything direct but - how's this?

I can make a few phone calls to some mates up North and get a shit load - an actual shitload of cows poo delivered in a truckload to those guys address - some Grove in Nuova Lazio right?

BOOTS 'N' ALL

Well its been a battle for the last few years. Kept my head down and bum up (not what you think you perverted bastard) and just got on with it. Life on the farm is not for bloody sissies but we've managed.

We've cleared debt and expanded a bit by purchasing some neighbouring farms. We had to kick the tenants off though but hey, they would have done the same to us. We've contracted out farm management to give us more time to ourselves.

The Old sheila and I go up to Wellington a bit now, so often in fact that we bought one of those apartments on the waterfront. Flash.

The sheep farming didn't work out so we joined up with the oppo and got into dairy. Best thing we could've done. Lots of money. Have to find somewhere to put it now though.

We heard of a new enterprise named CURMUDGEONS INC. Sounds pretty good so I'll send them an E.

RAIN

Rain is good. Basically it is water. It falls from the sky. Too much is bad. It floods the fields and causes problems for my sheep. Not enough and things dry out. Big bloody cracks in the ground. Bloke can fall over and break an ankle stepping into those. Hope those bloody dairy farmers do though. Country living - can't beat it. City bastards are coming though. Used to be a time that if there was a problem a bit of a stoush at the pub would settle it. Now? Bloody crims come and steal your stuff. Bring guns and iron bats too. Bastards! Anyway. Brenda from the pub likes to skinny dip in the rain. Gotta go. See you later.

CHOICE

Being a farmer is one of the best jobs in the world. Reckon. Out in the weather both good and bad. Good mates. Some drongoes but. Never mind. We sort them out. I run the old family farm. Sheep. Some crops. Lamb for Sainsbury's in the old country. Believe that? Hard bloody graft though especially when the weather is rotten. Love it though. What gets up my nose though is the pay-outs given to these dairy jokers. Don't mind the good old established ones but these new bastards fair get my goat. Newbies we call them. Bought some poor tired old bugger out and put in dairy herds.

Bastards shit all over the place. Can't use the old swimming hole anymore. Full of cow muck. Now the bastards get a big hand out from Fonterra. Where's the hand out for the good Kiwi sheep farmer then? Maybe the old man made the wrong choice in going sheep. Stuck with it. Don't mind though and I won't change. At least no one can say that I wsa responsible for all the shit in this country. I drink soy milk. Better for you.

DOWN SOUTH

I'm normally outside doing a man's job but the damn weather is so bad at the moment I can't get outside. Snow drifts are up to the roof. Luckily I can use my whistle so the dogs can sort out the sheep. Clever little bastards. I've even trained them to get their tucker out of the shed. Looks like we'll be in here for a few days. Bugger! Got the generator going though. Runs well. Stinks the place up a bit. Reckon the old sheila will get a bit narky after a while as I had to put it in the bedroom. Still. It means that I can get the rugby channel on the old TV and the fridge goes. Saturday will be OK then. Saw the news. Rubbish. Full of Dorklanders stealing and Wellingtonians moaning. Can't even do a bloody job with 16 weeks bloody holiday. Whingers. Get a real job. Still. They look after the bloody kids. Had to push the little buggers out through the window this morning to go to school. Moaned a bit. Soft. I used to walk barefoot to school 15 miles through... well must admit. This storm is the worst since '72. Hell, gotta go. Old sheila complaining about something. Either that or I'm on a promise.