I want a donkey. What a way to travel - by donkey. No-one else in town travels by donkey. I have seen people in Blackpool go on donkey rides but I have never been to Blackpool. I thought about getting a horse, a horse is a sexier beast than a donkey. A stallion would say 'ooh yeah!' and 'rage', but would require too much maintenance; food and grooming and everything else that I can hardly manage to do for myself let alone for 900lbs of horsey muscle. I think a donkey would more or less take care of itself; eating anything and happily going for weeks without so much as a hose-down. I could slope down the road on my donkey, Stu, slowly, no wind in my hair, painting my nails and reading the Funday Times. Then I could tie him to the wall outside the office and he could graze on fag-butts and thistle-weeds and those red rubber bands that the postmen leave. At lunch we could do a lap round Kennington park, stopping at the pub on the way back where I could pour a Guinness into a bowl for him and leave one in a glass for me.
Like birds, I don't know where you get donkeys from. The Zoo? I might have to rustle one from the city farm in Hackney. It's risky; a donkey ain't much of a getaway vehicle. Still, I can't just leave old Stu imprisoned, he needs liberating. I don't know what's happened to me, I'm no animal sucker. I'm not even a proper vegetarian. Maybe I'm sick of urban and miss good old west cork. It's the concrete and the men smashing the concrete with pneumatic drills and wrecking balls. I need to ride a donkey out to a wild orchid poppy meadow with a little bird on my shoulder... or possibly Rian. I need to lie down in the long grass by a cool glassy stream, finish the Funday Times and have a little nap with my cowboy hat over my eyes and possibly a sprig of wheat in my mouth (I wouldn't eat it though as I'm trying to cut down).
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