My father is rather heart broken. He keeps a prize veg patch, actually a couple of them, in one of the fields. My parents borrow sheep from a local farmer as woolly-lawnmowers. Mostly the sheep are very well behaved – they baa, they look woolly and picturesque and they keep the grass trimmed. Perfect house guests.
They get quite excited (you can tell, they baa more) when the compost is delivered to the heap, and frantically munch their way through yesterday’s potato peelings or artichoke clippings. Then one of the sheep got ambitious. From the evidence we have pieced together how the crime happened….
…Dastardly sheep waited until the compost was delivered. It was a good big load – lots of parsnip skins, some munchety flower stalks – and the pile was already quite high. Dastardly then nosed more clippings and scrub onto the top of the heap, shoved the other woollies out of the way, and climbed to the very pinnacle of the heap. From here, Dastardly launched herself over the wire fence. She sailed across the wooden gate and landed, right in the middle of the prize veg garden.
This was where my poor father found the culprit. She’d eaten her way through all the strawberry seedlings, chewed up every sprouting gooseberry and all the beetroot. She was discovered with a strawberry leaf in her mouth and not a hint of remorse on her long face. A truly vicious criminal.