George and the Goat. The European Union and old traditions

With it being July now we are ever so close to the end of yet another school year and so today was the day the school mascot was dressed up in his ceremonial outfit for the ritual feeding of the beast.  Yes today was the day when every pupil in the school had to look the school goat in the eye before the end of the school year sacrificial feast.  It is not exactly as you might be expecting because all the pupils are lined up and the goat proudly walks down the line looking for any small weakness in the pupils. Eventually someone will crack and they become the goat’s ceremonial feast for the day.

Of course some of the parents can complain and the local authority have said they are considering banning the practice, apparently we are the last school in Britain that still sacrifices a pupil at the end of the year for their goat to eat. The Headmaster has blamed it on the European Union and says these old traditions are all dying out, a bit like George from Class 13TA who made the mistake of sneezing as the goat was passing him. It’s his parents fault they should never have sent George to our school knowing he is allergic to goats.

Esmeralda is not happy she says once the goat has finished eating George (it may take a couple of days George was a big lad) he will be too heavy for her steam powered catapult. But right now I don’t thing the goat cares. A small word of warning; never stand alone with a school goat in a dark alley unless you are absolutely sure it has eaten….

Dad went off to Shrewsbury today to get some wood for my next project but he says the roads were chaos; he was not sure what was going on because we do live a bit out on a limb (not Georges limb). It appears the A49 was closed and so all the cars had to find alternative routes south which included a chunk of them heading in our direction. Our little twisty roads are not designed for loads of traffic and huge trucks so dad was well spaced out by the time he made it home.  Apparently the dog lost his bet with dad, as the dog had bet dad that the goat would pick me this year, I was wondering why the dog threw a pot of barbecue sauce on my head this morning. Which is why I stood next to George just in case; you see despite all appearances I am not an IDIOT or dinner (HAH HAHH HAHH HAH hah hah hah ha hah ahah ha)

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