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[personal profile] froodle
Although there is likely no good time to ask me if I want to come to an agricultural show, 9am on a rainy Sunday morning as I struggle, bleary-eyed, to load my blood-smeared sheets into the washing machine, has to be one of the worst.

Immediately following it up with twenty minutes of increasingly high-pitched whinging about how "the Island is trying to do indepen-DANT" and "there are lots of young farmers there, they're enthusi-ASTS" is definately going to earn you a poisonous glare and, if it was a more reasonable hour, probably a string of profanity to go with it.

Jesus fucking Christ. I have nothing against other people having enthusiasms, I just don't see why I should have to bear witness to them. I have no doubt that it takes great skill and patience to train a sheepdog to do it's job, but I'm not standing in the rain watching it do an obstacle course. You enjoy what you do? Fantastic. No doubt I'll enjoy eating your delicious livestock at some point, and you will get some portion of what I pay for the meat. In the meantime, though, don't ask me to pay to go into a field and look at them all scrubbed up and beribboned in their pens. It's not going to happen.

Fuckssake. I was actually in an alright mood until that, but now I just want to cry or stab someone. Again.

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