Recent Posts

It was Kyle’s belief (as well as society’s in general) that it wasn’t too difficult to herd a sheep. After all, humans had been selectively breeding good herding characteristics into them for hundreds of years. So you’d think that once you’d got a sheep moving it would be too difficult to lead it in the right direction. Which meant that right now Kyle was either entirely wrong or he’d somehow picked the one sheep in the world that’d escaped this selective gene pool. He was inclined to think the latter.

“Oh no, no we’re not crossing the road here. Do you want to become road kill?”Kyle guided the ram away from the road and tried take it in the direction of the MI6 building. The pair were quite unaware that in the smart-suited streets of London they stuck out like a sore thumb. Kyle alone was bad enough. After two days of sweating in a suit and tie he had reverted back to the old outback clothes he was used to wearing. His washed out flannelette and thick workboats could not have looked more out place, not that he had bothered to notice this. And as for the sheep…dogs being taken out for a walk were a common enough sight, but a sheep most certainly was not.

The sheep in question was one of the sturdy Welsh varieties and as such Kyle (who had names for all his pets) had decided to call it Dafydd. A name he’d read it in a book once. And right now Dafydd seemed keen to wonder everywhere except where Kyle was try to lead him. “Wait, not into the phone box. No don’t eat the phonebook! Come back here!” All at once Dafydd stepped back out into the street, knocking the Australian over in the process. The sheep then proceed to chew placidly on his stolen contents of the phonebook whilst staring at Kyle. The man could only sit there and gawp back at him “Crikey!” He exclaimed “I’m beginning to think I should have named you Westley.”