Hovis’ Friday diary: mother can kiss my baubles

Dear diary,

It’s Chhhrrriiiisssstttmmmassssss! That time of year when kissing mares under foliage is seen as you being full of festive cheer rather than being a creepy pervert. When humans undertake weird rituals that seem to involve a LOT of tinsel, questionable head gear and a penchant for hanging up undergarments from chimneys. And when some overweight dude with “laminitis case waiting to happen” written all over him breaks into your house and brings bags of treats. I mean, as you read all of that, do you not reflect that this time of year clearly sends everyone a tad bonkers?

My Hovis’ Hot Mare Helpline is doing a roaring trade with attractive females across the land phoning to cry on my manly shoulder about the horrors of festive headbands, Christmas hats and the prospect of the annual Christmas hack in which we are made to go in public essentially looking like a four-legged Christmas tree following an explosion at a tinsel factory. As I said to my lady love only last week, if mother thinks I am being seen out sporting antlers again, she can kiss my baubles.

So, in the spirit of Christmas, please find below my new versions of a few Christmas songs — Hovis style…

On the first day of Christmas, my mother gave to me; a lead rope on my bootie

On the second day of Christmas, my mother gave to me
Two blades of grass,
and a lead rope on my bootie!

On the third day of Christmas, my mother gave to me
Three hot mares,
Two blades of grass,
and a lead rope on my bootie!

On the fourth day of Christmas, my mother gave to me
Four swear words,
Three hot mares,
Two blades of grass,
and a lead rope on my bootie!

On the fifth day of Christmas, my mother gave to me
Five stressage moves.
Four swear words,
Three hot mares,
Two blades of grass,
and a lead rope on my bootie!

On the sixth day of Christmas, my mother gave to me
Six books a-written,
Five stressage moves.
Four swear words,
Three hot mares,
Two blades of grass,
and a lead rope on my bootie!

On the seventh day of Christmas, my mother gave to me
Seven pheasants a-spooking,
Six books a-written,
Five stressage moves.
Four swear words,
Three hot mares,
Two blades of grass,
and a lead rope on my bootie!

On the eighth day of Christmas, my mother gave to me
Eight halts a-halting,
Seven pheasants a-spooking,
Six books a-written,
Five stressage moves.
Four swear words,
Three hot mares,
Two blades of grass,
and a lead rope on my bootie!

On the ninth day of Christmas, my mother gave to me
Nine miles of hacking,
Eight halts a-halting,
Seven pheasants a-spooking,
Six books a-written,
Five stressage moves.
Four swear words,
Three hot mares,
Two blades of grass
and a lead rope on my bootie!

On the tenth day of Christmas, my mother gave to me
Ten vets a-laughing,
Nine miles of hacking,
Eight halts a-halting,
Seven pheasants a-spooking,
Six books a-written,
Five stressage moves.
Four swear words,
Three hot mares,
Two blades of grass,
and a lead rope on my bootie!

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my mother gave to me
Eleven threats threatening,
Ten vets a-laughing,
Nine miles of hacking,
Eight halts a-halting,
Seven pheasants a-spooking,
Six books a-written,
Five stressage moves.
Four swear words,
Three hot mares,
Two blades of grass,
and a lead rope on my bootie!

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my mother gave to me
Twelve trots trotting,
Eleven threats threatening,
Ten vets a-laughing,
Nine miles of hacking,
Eight halts a-halting,
Seven pheasants a-spooking,
Six books a-written,
Five stressage moves.
Four swear words,
Three hot mares,
Two blades of grass,
and a lead rope on my bootie!

Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to ride
A horse where you have to pray,
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to ride
A horse where you have to pray…

Dashing through the snow,
On a horse where you have to pray,
Through the fields we go,
Swearing all the way.
Hooves on concrete ring,
Giving all a fright,
What fun it is to ride and sing
A bolting song tonight.

Jingle bells, jingle bells,
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to ride
A horse where you have to pray,
Jingle bells, jingle bells,
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to ride
A horse where you have to pray…

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I am available for Christmas carol concerts, birthdays, weddings and funerals. Just call my management team!

So all that remains for me to say is have an amazing Christmas, don’t be too evil to your faithful steeds with the “Christmas decorations” — remember there are 364 days next year for us to take revenge…

Laters,

Ho-Ho-Hovis

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