Every year, in the Pyrenees, is seen the pastoral tradition where sheep are moved en mass from their winter pastures to graze the mountains.
The Transhumance.
Sheep are rounded up into one large flock of like-minded (empty headed) individuals. Each sheep follows the rest. All are glued together by the promise of greener grass.
Each sheep thinks that it knows best. Each sheep lives its own dream. Each is unique.
Each does exactly the same as the other.
Each follows its own unique destiny, just like everyone else.
Ignore the sticks, ignore the shouting, it's just project fear.
This behaviour is not seen in all species, but is most prominently displayed in mankind. Thus the word Transhumance maybe?
This is the 'grass is greener' syndrome. Instead of staying comfortably in the green fields of Europe, how about we all bugger off to the middle of the Atlantic?
All we need is a leader....
Here's a likely looking sheep...
His name is Boris..
Here we are, arriving at our new destination about to be given our freedom.
We are free!!!
Free to roam.
Free to pay more for our food.
Free to have less choice.
Free to have less freedom to control our own regulations.
Free to be poorer.
Unless you are one of the wolves...
in which case; Eat the Sheep.
Time will tell.....
ReplyDeleteBut the wolves are too preoccupied with smelling their own bottoms and dont care a f+++ about the grass
ReplyDeleteVery entertaining Phil I giggled as I read. I note the cynicism towards UK. I think you will find that the traffic is worse in the south of England. Much less so in wealthy Cotswolds and countryside. Very little congestion here in West Wales. See what I'm getting at. Paris on the other revealed stark evidence of extreme poverty as people stepped over a woman lying in the middle of the Champs Elysees. It wasn't like this in 1976. We were searched at each end of the champs Elysees ( reminded me of Belfast in the 80s ). No traffic at all on the champs Elysees because the police had cordened it off and very high police presence carrying huge guns ( or were they just pleased to see me ) not a sight I'm used to in dear old Blighty. Xxxxxxxxxx
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