Annual Donkey Humiliation Day

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@beckyflashhart here, working on the theory that sharing public humiliation somehow eases the pain. So today was Palm Sunday. Don't worry - this isn't a religious blog, in fact it is the opposite...

So, I grew up in a village, and owned two lovely kind well behaved (well ish but let's gloss over that) donkeys. With me so far? So come Palm Sunday, the local Vicar asks us to lead the procession from the village hall to the church. Easy. Then the congregation go into church and we slope off...

As you can guess by the title, this didn't always go to plan.

There was the year one donkey wiped green grass-slime down the Vicar's white robe (smock? I'm not religious so I have no idea but it was bad)

There was the year the naughtier of the two donkeys ate half the palms and some of the hymn books....

There was the year the two donkeys, normally best of friends, decided to fall out mid procession and tried to bite and kick the bejesus *trust me I was saying worse words under my breath* out of each other as the local Brownie troupe started to cry...

So yes, in summary, the old two donkeys might have had that butter wouldn't melt persona, but in retrospect they were a tad... unruly. But as you are probably guessing from the title of this blog, the new two are worse. Much worse.

The first year, and admittedly Daisy Donkey was barely two, she coped rather well. I mean, she bolted and the entire elderly congregation made it to the church at a sprint, but exercise is good for your health right? And she only breyed a little bit and in fairness it didn't drown out much singing, since everyone was gasping for breath and making quite a poor show of Hail Hosanna....

So fast forward to this year. Palm Sunday clashed with the Chinese Grand Prix. Bummer - I had to go to work and leave my mum to do the family duty. What a shame.

Daisy clearly agreed. Daisy clearly believed if she couldn't humiliate me on Sunday, she would find another opportunity...