Sexy cows, nationwide

I was just about to go to the gym there last night and was getting into my tracksuit in front of the telly, when I flicked the channel to RTE 1. 'Nationwide' was on.

Normally when I stumble across this programme while channel surfing, I say to myself "Oh Look! Nationwide is on! Great! Unfortunately however, I have to go and stick pins in my balls now, and can't watch it. Shame."

It all changed last night though. Nationwide had cows on it, and I was immediately drawn in. Sexy cows at that. I shit you not. I have a bit of a thing for cows as you might tell from the title of the blog. I grew up in a rural area with a few of them more or less in my back garden, encountered them almost every day as I lived close to a mart, plus I eat lots of steak and like women in tight leather. So it's clear - cows are the animals that just keep on giving.

Anyhoo, last night's edition of Nationwide saw the cameras visit my home county of Cavan for the Agricultural Show in Virginia. They were there to film the best cow competition or the lovely cow pageant or whatever the feck it was called, and in truth it was a bit of an eye-opener for me. The amount of preparation and grooming that goes into getting cows ready for a show is mind-boggling.

They get their backs shampooed, sheared and clipped. Their tails are fluffed and dried with a hair-dryer. Fresh straw is rotated through the stalls every few hours. A team of attendants caters for their every whim to ensure the animals are kept spotless and presentable at all times. But just when I thought it couldn't get any more surreal, it did.

The narrator says in a cheery voice: "And someone has to be at hand to lift the tail at the crucial time!" And do you know what the crucial time was? Yep. When the cow needed to take a shit or a piss, some poor fecker had to lift its tail, and press a bucket to its arse to stop it soiling its lovely pampered haunches. And then they had to wipe its hole. Holy Moley, I could scarcely believe that some poor bastard has that as their job. On reflection though, appearing in the judging ring with the backs of your legs covered in piss and poo wouldn't do much for your chances of victory, and they wouldn't stand for it at the Rose of Tralee either.

They had an expert judge flown in from Wales from the event, somebody Jones probably. "Look at those cows," he cooed in a soft hushed lilt, "their heads are up, their ears are pricked, their udders swollen with milk, oh yes they're just loving this." Er, ok mate calm down.

The winner, by the way, was an absolute monster cow from Kerry. Apparently she was the biggest bovine in the show and pumps out ten gallons of milk a day without fail. She was quite a good-looking cow as well, nice and black and white and she had an udder on her that slapped between her legs like two huge ostrich eggs in a silk hanging basket.

Turned me right on.*

* It didn't actually, I'm joking for God's sake.