Barney's Blog

Hats off to another Open Day

Morning all, Barney McGrew – equine beyond equal – here again for your delight and delectation.

Well, we had one of those open days again on Monday, in support of National Racehorse Week – and the place was swarming with bloody humans. There were more of ‘em than flies round a manure heap on a hot day.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for National Racehorse Week. Anything that shows the world how brilliant us racehorses are, the better. It’s a cracking idea. I just think they should go a step further and have a National Barney Week to celebrate the only racehorse in the world to have his own blog.

Anyway, you should have seen how many humans turned up. Big’ uns. Little ‘uns. Right strange creatures.

Imagine if us horses turned up en masse to stuff our faces with bacon sandwiches and gawp at humans through their bedroom windows. Or while they’re having their shoes fitted in Clinkards. Or running on the treadmill at the local gym. Or – worst of all – having a bath!

They’d say there was something wrong with us, but that’s what humans like to do, apparently. There’s only my Carole who’s nearly normal!

Anyway, I was having a good old natter to my mate Nelson Gay the day before the open day, and I said to him: “Hey, Nelly, old son, there’s a load of dumb humans coming tomorrow. If any of ‘em come over to your stable wearing a hat – eat it. That’ll teach the buggers!”

And, so, that’s precisely what he did. A nice enough human female, called Leslie Ann – a groom from BBSS Equestrian – got a bit too close and Nelly grabbed her cap with his teeth and wouldn’t let go! Hats off to you, Nelly. I laughed my bloody head off.

Having said all that, it was nice to meet that Pam Royle human off the telly. I’ve watched her reading the North-East news for donkey’s years.

She’s so well-spoken, I always thought she’d be dead posh, but the carrots she brought me were well past their sell-by date. You’d think she’d have been able to afford some fresh ones from Sainsbury’s, wouldn’t you?

On the other hand, she was very nice and friendly, and we had a good old chinwag. She was with her husband – a human called Mike – and, let me tell you, he’s batting way out of his league. Pam’s a nice looking chestnut but he’s got a main that’s greyer than Desert Bloody Orchid. Him and her together – it’s like Enable coupling up with a selling-plater, if you ask me.

They came over to my field with a big lanky human called David Russell – otherwise known as “Doctor Dave”. Can you believe that he asked one of the staff where he’d find “the famous Barney McGraw”? McGRAW? Ignorant git.
Pam told me was a GP. At first, I assumed it must have stood for Gormless Pillock but, apparently, it means General Practitioner. It’s a kind of vet for humans, although they’re not that clever. If it’s in the slightest bit serious, they just send their patients to hospital to see a proper doctor.

I much preferred meeting the youngest open day visitor – a young ‘un called Holly Kellett. She’s only three but she got on the horse simulator, and she was a lot more stylish than that Rhys Elliott human who’s supposed to be the stable apprentice. Hey, Rhys, watch the way Holly does it and you won’t go far wrong, son.

Going back to Doctor Dave, I hear he once had a patient who walked in to his surgery with a cucumber up his nose, a carrot in his left ear, and a banana in his right ear.

“What’s the matter with me, Doc?” he pleaded.

“You’re not eating properly,” replied Doctor Dave.

OH, and as for Pam Royle's husband, Mike, he's some kind of property consultant.

I'm told he specialises in converted basements. They're his best cellars!

That’s all from me for now, folks. I'm gonna have to love ya and leave ya. Bring carrots. And don't get them off Pam Royle!