Straight from the horses arse.

I was reminded the other day of the lengths that men and women go to in order to impress the opposite sex. A young friend of mine asked my advice about how he could ingratiate himself with a girl he worked with. He has convinced himself that He is out of her league and will probably fail, but he is a game chap and is going to try anyway, I admire his pluck, she sounds like a bit of a snot to me, but hey ho,nothing ventured,nothing gained, feint heart, blah, blah, blah.

I advised him to be his self and not try to impress her in an unsustainable way, it can only lead to heartache and land you in a whole heap of shit, I know, this is my story.

I was seventeen, and incredibly stupid, my bosses daughter was beautiful and privileged, the last thing she needed was to be pursued by a working class lad like me, with no money, no prospects, and no job if my boss found out about what I was up to.

But like my young friend I couldn't be deterred from my mission, I discovered that she used to go horse riding on Saturday mornings with friends. So I decided to learn how to ride a horse and thought when reasonably competent I could accidentally bump into her whilst out cantering, having horses in common would help my case I reasoned.

So I joined the horsy club, and on Sunday mornings whenever my meager budget would allow I rode a very pleasant little horse called Millie, we got on fine and the more I rode her the more confident I became. I say rode but in fact we did little more than walk, but you know how it is after several lessons I was telling everyone that I had been born in the saddle.
I was becoming impatient and desperate to press my suit, so I decided to try my luck the next Saturday when I knew my target would be out riding with her friends.

Unfortunately I arrived late at the club that morning and my usual mount Millie had already been taken out. The stable girl explained that the only mount left was a rather spirited horse named Nelson, no problem I told her, I'm a seasoned rider.

Things went fine at first, we headed off up the lane at a steady walk, but I needed to catch up so I dug my heels in and made the lets go faster sound with my teeth. Now I swear I put the horse in second gear, but Nelson had other ideas, perhaps I dug my heels in a little too hard and he took exception to it, but he decided fifth gear was more appropriate and bolted.

I didn't realize horses could reach such speeds. We sped along the lane with me holding on for dear life, we approached a sharp bend in the lane and I thought we would make it, but the horse thought different and headed strait for a gate. As we neared the gate I actually considered jumping it, but in the event Nelson screeched to a halt sideways on and I jumped it alone.

I hit the top of the gate with the middle of my back, which had the effect of cartwheeling me over the gate into the mud, and cow shit on the other side. As I lay in this mixture of crap I watched the horse tootle of up the lane without me.
Things were not going too well, but they were going to get worse.

I ran after the horse and about half a mile up the lane I found him being comforted and calmed down by a young girl in overhauls, as I approached them she started telling me off for mistreating this poor animal,he was frightened and in a terrible state.
She seemed oblivious to my state, but ordered me to follow her to the farm, you will jolly well clean him up she said.

The farm was more a haven for broken down tractors and rusty agricultural machinery than anything else, but follow her I did and whilst making the horse good, I set about chatting her up.

The girl who's name I cant remember went inside to make us a cup of tea, and I settled myself down on a low square brick building that was topped by a rust encrusted steel sheet full of holes. She reappeared carrying two mugs of tea.

I wondered at how different she looked, my chat line must have worked, because she had changed into a very pretty white dress, and had rearranged her hair. This is the part in films where everything happens in slow motion, as she walked towards me I pushed the match I had just lit my cigarette with through one of the holes in the steel plate I was sat on. I heard a loud whoosh accompanied by a large ball of flame and for the second time that day I became airborne, I saw the horrified look on her face as I sailed past her and landed with a thud on my back. She stood there her white dress covered in human excrement.

It dripped from her face, it ran down her arms and legs, it filled the two mugs she was carrying. From far away I heard a scream that got louder and more penetrating. I had blown the farm's cesspit up, Instinctively I knew that the situation couldn't be saved, so I grabbed the horse by the reigns and made my escape. Needless to say I didn't go horse riding again.

After telling my young friend this sorry tale he looked at me for a while. His eyes glazed over, but I won't be taking her horse riding he said. I think stupidity must be a prerequisite of youth.