Wordsmoker

It’s Autumn here in Scotland, which means our alloted 2 hours of sunlight per day is drastically reduced to 38 minutes. Because it’s now even darker than before, and well, because we’re all romantics at heart here, we get through these dank and dreary months by getting drunk and copulating with anyone or anything that takes our alcohol-fuelled fancy. It’s a survival mechanism to be honest, and one of the key reasons why we’re not allowed a seat at the UN.

And yes, those sexy, sexy sheep we have. Unlike say, New Zealand, not all men fuck the sheep here – we’re geographically discriminating when it comes to “worrying” the livestock after a laughter-strewn, drunken brawl. Sheep-shagging is primarily concentrated to the North of the country, because – let’s face it – they’ve been doing it for countless generations and they’re really good at pounding into Flossy in the middle of a rain-sodden field under a moonlit sky. To those penis-owners in the North, impersonating a sheep is about the most shocking crime there is, which possibly explains this story from the BBC:

A 24-year-old football fan dressed as a sheep suffered serious burns to his arms and legs when he was set alight on a train in Fife.

Yes, the train was heading North, or “up” as it’s sometimes called in Bonnie Scotland.

Aberdeen fans said the man ran through the carriage on fire as others threw beer on him to douse the flames.

Who needs fire extinguishers when you’re surrounded by lamb-smelling, sex-crazed alcoholics?

In related news, I’m now horny. Where’s my Wellington boots and camouflage gear?