Dear Diary

So this week has been all about mother trying to hog the limelight. The woman is shameless – we all know that facebook and MY pages are about ME so why she feels the need to start telling the world about her being idiotic enough to fly on a plane is beyond me. To be clear when I say ON a plane I mean on TOP of a plane. On the wing. And yes, she is totally and utterly nuts – I’m surprised it’s taken all of you this long to figure it out…

She’s also now talking about undertaking a new challenge to make up for the fact I certainly won’t be able to do the Wobbleberry BE80 challenge this year, and possibly not next year either. Mum and I were all set to do it when I injured my leg and mum is keen not to let the people who had already sponsored her down and indeed continue to support the charity in Hannah’s name.

She and Uncle Flea are talking about running something called Wild Warrior in September, which seems to involve lots of obstacles and a swim across a lake. Personally I think she’d be better running a BE80 without the horse – probably slightly less chance of drowning…

Bringing it all back to me – which quite frankly is what it should always be about – I continue to improve and am now totally sound in walk and pretty sound in trot. Mum will be going into mourning later today as my massacred feather has grown back just in time for Herman to shave it all off again ready for my IRaP. That’s right people, today my morph into Hoverine commences as I’m re-injected with my mutant super-horse blood to fix my joint and turn me into the super hero that we all know I am.

The down side of this is having to spend two days inside, having to watch mother sob hysterically clutching strands of my shaven feather like Kate Winslet clinging to that flotsam after the ferry sank and having to listen to Herman rap. Seriously the man might be a semi competent vet (on a good day), but he’s an appalling hair dresser and an even worse rapper.

I end up with a leg that looks like an escapee from a fight with Edwards Sissorhands and ear ache. There aren’t enough drugs in the world to make that man tuneful – even if he gives me loopy juice, he still sounds like a goosed Tom Cat. Last time I had IRaP treatment on my front leg he warbled “Ice Ice Baby” at me so many times I was considering asking him to vet wrap my ears instead of my leg. And don’t even get me started on the backwards baseball cap…

In other news regarding yet more of my bonkers support crew, following his brush with cancer earlier this year (apparently he didn’t sell a kidney to pay for my treatment, the lying malingering toe rag) Cool New Shoes Man is trying to raise money for the Farriers Foundation (a charity that supports injured farriers) by donning lycra (Oh god, my eyes) and biking some silly distance.

Can I please request you support him? Only because if he doesn’t start getting some sponsorship he’s threatened to start posting naked pictures on MY facebook pages. And he will. Please please don’t let my part of the internet super gallop track be corrupted by pictures of his derriere. I beg of you. I have to cope with him snogging me as it is – I don’t need to know what the man looks like without his chaps on. I know you’re all a generous lot who have long since supported my work raising money for equines more badly off than myself; CNSM gets naked and I will be in therapy for the rest of my life. So please help this equine in need and pay the man to stay rugged…

So having seen Evil Army Man last week, Herman the German every Friday now for the next three weeks (oh deep joy), and Cool New Shoes Man (hopefully clothed) next week, I am a clean toothed, Hoverine morphing, dancing shoes-clad hunk of a horse.

Until next week

Laters,
Hovis

Keep up to date with Hovis’ latest thoughts here on HorseandHound.co.uk every Friday morning.