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Monologue 19 June 2017

It was patronise a townie day in Ambridge, or Open Farm Sunday, as we call it. These are cows. You might have seen them when you are driving along the motorway, said David bewilderingly. Who grazes cattle on the hard shoulder? Anyway…when you’re driving along to the funny little places where you people live in your funny little cars, we’re out doing a proper job, he said. It all went very well, and they all went to the pub afterwards, except Pip, who decided to stay behind and do the milking then lick the silage clamp clean. Everyone at Bridge […]

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Monologue 12 June 2017

Apparently haymaking at Brookfield was so relaxed they could all stop and eat Scotch eggs and point at birds. Hooty couldn’t join them as her bees had swarmed. I think that might be a euphemism for “gone a bit potty”. They said ‘her bees have swarmed’ in the same way that people say “she’s a bit of a character” that means she wears her pants on her head and eats Tippex. Lilian has started referring to Helen as a mole. Really? I think of her as more of a gerbil, personally. Mind you, as Lilian is currently washing in the […]

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Monologue 5 June 2017

Tom’s still banging on about fermented foods. Nope, I’m sorry, you can call it kefir and kimchee all you like, but fermented food is still compost. Lilian had a fantastic time leaping around in a leather catsuit pretending to be Purdey from the Avengers with the speed gun. Gemma Hawkins and Leroy were both caught going too slow but that’s because they caught sight of Lilian and drove into the hedge. Apparently we are now calling Open Farm Sunday OFS. Or Fun Farm Sunday, which is FFS. Much more approrpriate. Freddie had a bad algebra test. It wasn’t the equations […]

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Monologue 15 May 2017

Ah, the dawn walk. Lots of tits in a field. Mummy made me get up early because she’s a maniac. Loony loony loony! shouted Henwee. They all hopped about in a field while Lynda lectured them on speeding and made them crouch in a hedge while all the birds for a mile away legged it as they could hardly hear themselves tweet over the rustling of cagoules. The big meeting happened at Home Farm. “Oh of course no-one’s going to turn against you” said everyone to everyone else, in gleeful ignorance of every family schism that has ever occurred in […]

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Monologue – 8 May 2017

Tom is still adjusting to having to get over himself.  This dump is all I’ve got now said Tom. Pip asked Toby if there was a chance she could get her money back.  He said unfortunately, owing to circumstances entirely within his own control, he would be unable to deliver the monies owing from himselves to themselves debts notwithstanding.  For further information please contact our debt helpline.  When she described this to her father it was interesting to note she referred to it as an “investment”, not as forking over her entire profit to a hapless nob-head making moonshine  in […]

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Monologue 1 May 2017

This week on the Archers everything went a bit cosa nostra.  There was a lot of family financial dodginess going on. Poor old Toby had a horrible dream, poor little baby.  He dreamt he was an over privileged no-hoper with a rubbish business, a depressed girlfriend and an ego the size of Buenos Aires.  And then he woke up and etc etc.  He was sad because he had to take down the still, which is officially now called the Still Rubbish, but then things went alright again as The Bull has decided to take on the investment into Dead Dog […]

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Monologue – 24 Apr 2017

We began the week on Easter Sunday in Rickyard Cottage.  It’s not like your mum to hold a grudge, said Toby.  Eh?  She’s still harping on about mee mutha and she passed away years ago in a burger king car park next to the AA man under his massive umbrella outside Charnock Richard services. Then we popped over to Home Farm where Jenni darling was preparing an Easter feaster for the assembled hordes.  Lilian was being girlishly skittish and announced, “I’m sure Brian will slip Justin something more to his liking if he gets desperate.”  Golly.  You’re not even married […]

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Monologue – 18 Apr 2017

We began the week knocking Justin and Brian’s balls around on the golf course.  In the clubhouse, Matt sent over a bottle of something unpleasant to Brian and Justin’s table.  Judging by Justin’s reaction it was either Toby’s gin with its distinctive aroma of Lynx Africa, a urine sample or even worse, Jacob’s Creek.   What was even more peculiar was the accent of the waiter that brought the wine over.  He sounded like Tattoo in Fantasy Island.  Ze plane boss, ze plane! Pip finished a triumphant week of magnificent cock ups by breaking the tractor.  She snapped its underwiring I […]

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Monologue – 3 Apr 2017

We began the week with lumpy porridge, crispy kedgeree and eggs bogged up at Grange Farm.  Clarrie and Emma handled the situation with their customary professionalism.  They used a pile driver to break up the lumps in the custard, told the guests the kedgeree was stir-fried rice and used a left over tin of custard from Blossom Hill cottage instead of the hollandaise sauce. The cows have still got the clap.  They all had to line up at the clinic looking a bit sheepish, which is really hard for cows.  They got given some cream and a sticker that says […]

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Monologue – 20 Mar 2017

We started the week in bed with Lilian and Justin.  Justin just asumed that Lilian was going to move in with him.  There’ll be plenty of excitement, Justin assured Lilian.  Sometimes we’ll watch Call the Midwife, and sometimes a re-run of Antiques Roadshow.  You just won’t know, Lilian. Oh you must be delighted to have taken him from that ghastly woman, said Jenny, as if she was a terrier with a tennis ball. The cows at Brookfield are not very happy, more of that anon.  In the meantime they all sat around the table…the family I mean, not the cows… […]