Barney's Blog

It shouldn't happen to a vet

Morning everyone, Barney McGrew here again - horse of the century, absolute bloody legend, sex symbol and all that.

Well, I've lived a long time, and seen some sights over my 21 years on this planet of ours, but I couldn't believe my eyes when I looked over the wall in my field the other day.

There was this knock-kneed human, in a skimpy pair of shorts and a vest, running up the gallops, while only managing to clock a measly 14 miles an hour on that speedometer thingy. I could run faster than that, and I'm bloody ancient.

Everyone knows that humans can't run. For a start, they only have two legs, tiny lungs, and even smaller brains. They're just not designed for running.

I eventually discovered it was our vet, Phil Cramp - or Crampy as I like to call him. What a bloody state! Look carefully at the photograph below and compare the muscle definition on the horse's arse with Crampy's arse. There's no competition, is there?

And what in God's name is he doing with his left arm stuck in the air, while the fingers on his right hand are splayed out as if he's got acute arthritis? He's far too tense and needs to relax. No technique or style whatsoever.

Anyway, I'm told Crampy's in training for a 70-mile charity run along something called Hadrian's Wall that's described as a 'historical treasure'.

I honestly don't know why there's such a fuss about a wall that's falling down. Apparently, it was built to stop the humans with funny accents from up north from killing the humans down here.

Fair enough, but it's a crap wall - they clearly didn't use enough cement - so why not just knock the bloody thing down and be done with it?

I think you'll find that Barney's Wall is far more sturdily built. Look at the workmanship. I'm considering promoting it as a tourist attraction, so I get more humans bringing me carrots.

Anyway, that's all besides the point. Crampy has decided to run along this famous wall - covering the length of 15 Grand Nationals - to raise money for three charities: The Injured Jockeys Fund, The British Eventing Support Trust, and Nature's Safe, which is dedicated to saving animals from extinction. I'm in favour of all of them, so I suppose I should wish Crampy well because he's a decent human, with soft hands when it matters.

I just wish he wouldn't embarrass himself by getting those white legs out in public. I had to put a pair of sun-glasses on, they're that pale. He'd be better off in a gym somewhere, behind closed doors.

I noticed a news report in which The Gaffer - the Michael human - said: “He looks more like a dour stayer with slightly dodgy legs than a speed merchant. He’s getting a bit long in the tooth, so we just hope he doesn’t get Cramp!"

Well, I'd go a bit further. Having watched Crampy's running style, I think he's a bit too keen and fresh, with a tendency to get easily distracted. Therefore, I've told The Gaffer to try him in a nifty pair of blinkers.

On second thoughts, I'd have the bugger gelded. That'd make him run faster!

• To support Crampy, go to www.justgiving.com and search for Phil Cramp

ON the subject of charity, I want to wish another one of our humans, Phil Thomas - or Philly as I like to call him - the best of luck.

Philly is one of the stable staff at Denton Hall and he's going about things with a bit more dignity than Crampy. He's going to be riding a horse in a charity race, rather than trying to run himself.

The race is at Thirsk on July 26 and has been organised by that nice Adele Mulrennan human off the telly to raise funds for Graham Lee and his family. Graham was badly injured in a fall at Newcastle and it's great to see how everyone in racing is rallying round.

Philly will be one of 12 stable staff from different yards who'll be riding in the race and you can support him by going to https://www.justgiving.com/page/philip-thomas-1716834850286.

Good luck Philly, lad. Bring carrots, and I might think about sponsoring you!

NOW, as you all know, I like to dig deep for stories that I can use in Barney's Blog, and I've unearthed something rather embarrassing about that Graham Johnson human who works around here.

I never reveal my sources, but this has come from someone very close to the yard, and I'm assured it's a true story.

Apparently, Graham's hobby is trying to find buried treasure with his metal-detector. He was out in a field with it not long ago, and it started bleeping really loudly. Naturally, he started digging in the hope of finding something valuable, but nothing emerged. When he walked on, the detector started bleeping again, so he dug another hole. Again, he didn't find anything of any worth. He walked on again and there was yet more bleeping.

In the end, Graham dug four holes before he finally realised the metal-detector was bleeping because he was wearing boots fitted with steel toe-caps.

And they call us horses dumb animals!

Getting back to Philly - apparently he quite likes playing darts, and I'm told he's rather good at it.

In case you're not aware, darts is a sport humans play where they throw pointy things at a round board with numbers on it, usually while drinking beer. It's a bloody stupid - pointless - thing to do but they seem to enjoy it.

Apparently, Philly has played at a high level during his time and, since he joined our yard a few months ago, he's been slaughtering all-comers.

He and that Andrew Miller human like to play each other - Philly v Miller - and there's only ever one winner. Never mind the bull, Miller couldn't hit a bloody cow's arse from six paces.

Anyway, Philly was playing in a proper darts match for the local pub team the other night and he took Miller with him in the hope he might get a round in for the first time in his life. 

The team was a man short, so Philly asked Miller if he was willing to fill in. Understandably, considering how rubbish he is, Miller was quite nervous but he agreed to have a go.

Just as he was finding his range, a nun came into the pub and started collecting donations for the local church.

While she was busy collecting loose change, it was Miller's turn to throw. His first dart landed in the treble 20. His second shot was a single 20. He then threw his third dart but it slipped out of his hand, bounced off the light above the board, and whizzed straight back over his head, hitting the nun square between the eyes. The poor Sister of Mercy cried out in pain, stumbled, hit the floor, and died on the spot.

There was complete shock on the faces of everyone in the pub. The whole place went quiet. Then the caller yelled out the score. "ONE NUN DEAD AND 80!"

That's all from me, folks. Bring carrots. Lots of love, Barney.