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Dear diary,

So, I received much support for my new campaign for equine equality in all things. So much so that I think I’m going to extend the campaign past the original issue of rider fitness versus horse fitness into other areas. I shall be like a parliamentary candidate for all equines — representing issues that matter to all of us; be you a 11.2hh Pony Club supremo or 18hh of supposedly male Clydesdale prancing about to music and generally ruining everything for the rest of your breed (and you know who you are…).

My mane-ifesto aims to cover off the following areas:

Rider fitness standards versus equine fitness standards

I covered this last week in my diary, but here I shall focus on the hopeless levels of inequality seen between the levels of acceptable fitness and indeed lameness permitted in humans versus equines. We are expected to be lean, mean, obliging machines with the aerobic fitness of Usain Bolt on a pogo stick, and no matter our age, perfect limb functioning always — to not abide by this means a one-way ticket to the big field in the sky or worse still, being retired off into a paddock with less grass than bald men have hair…

Our “riders” on the other hand can be chronically lame, with the aerobic fitness of an asthmatic tortoise climbing a flight of stairs, and quite frankly in need of a grazing muzzle gaffer taping to their face and not one thing is said. I shall fight this inequality and insist that riders are lunged regularly, given vettings before we agree to be their steed and be subjected to grazing restrictions as and when they are required.

Rider dress and the outlawing of “matchy-matchy”

Here I shall address an issue which plagues so many of my equine constituents. The horror, humiliation and mental anguish caused by being dressed up like an extra from Pan’s People. I do not see any of our riders parading about in neon leg warmers like rejects from Fame! Neigh, they have fancy outfits with tasteful black jackets and classy ties while we must suffer looking like an explosion in the pastel paint aisle at B&Q. And it’s the amount! It’s like some strange addiction comes over them and they must have leg bandages, ear things and numnahs in every colour ever thought of. Do they at any point stop to ask us whether we really want to parade around in aubergine coloured outfits? I don’t see any of them matching their socks and women’s apparel with the exact colour of the contents of the local septic tank or even worse, girlie things like “sun blown candyfloss” or “mandarin jade” whose titles can only have been made up by mullered marketing morons. I blame Barbie myself.

I shall take a stand against this soul-destroying practise and defend us all (especially us men) against this systemic and ritual abuse.

Removal of rationing

I will campaign for the immediate banning of the cruel and frankly discriminatory practises of “strip grazing”, “restricted grazing”, “soaking of all hay” and the sale of grazing muzzles UNLESS they are met with fair and equitable equivalents applied to our humans: McDonalds and other fast food restaurants will be open for approximately 10 minutes per day which is on average the amount of time it takes me to eat the pitiful amount of new grass I’m allowed per day. The area around all fast food restaurants will be fortified with electric tape which is wired to the same voltage as the electric chair — if anyone tries to get under it, new strips will be added to stop the small people getting underneath — this item I dedicate to all my pony followers whose cunning and wriggling have been thwarted in the past. All humans will be subject to a weigh tape and any found to be on the curvy side of “good doer” will have a grazing muzzle attached with zero warning and absolutely no consultation on the matter. They will wear it 24 hours a day — they will thus understand that attracting the opposite sex while looking like Hannibal Lecter is nigh on impossible…

And finally:

The fair allocation of al-fresco living

I shall campaign for equality in the small matter of sleeping arrangements and the outdoor nature of these. I will ensure it is down to equine choice where they chose to sleep outside or in a comfy stable with substantial bedding. If faced with objection from the human element, I shall once again push for equivalency and insist for the months that we are forced to sleep outside that our riders join us in bedtime bonding and see how much they enjoy sleeping under the stars when it’s raining cats and dogs and every other creature to the extent there isn’t a hair on your body that isn’t wet — including the small cat-like ones that lurk in the crack of one’s derriere like wispy moss growing in guttering. I shall insist that the “no duvet from April to October” rule is made compulsory to all equine owners and that cold hoses are supplied for washing purposes. Any moaning, limping or arthritic hobbling will then come under manifesto item number one and the vet will be summoned for immediate euthanasia. Under extreme duress, bute will be supplied cunningly hidden in food that used to taste nice before it was filled with the equivalent of Columbian marching powder while insincere people with lying eyes insist that there’s nothing in the bucket but what had been ordered.

Continues below…



I really think I have a shot here to change things for us all. I’m going to continue to work on my drive for equine equality and may add to my mane-ifesto as you come to me with ideas. Send your ideas to my Facebook pages with the hashtag (cos I is like so down with the colts) #neighone.

I have a platform to leave a lasting legacy, to reverse this endless cycle of discrimination and hay barn ceilings. To allow us to break free from the shackles of control headcollars and twitches and to make a stand against this gross injustice.

Well unless mum’s there — then I might have to wait until she’s gone home…

Laters,

Hovis

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