OK, you asked for it, so you’re going to get it. Actually, you didn’t ask for it, but you’re going to get it anyway.

I’ve just realised that I am very bored with the fiction I have been trying to write, and I have been grasped with enthusiasm for Forget the Cud, We Want Blood.

As a result, I have begun work on the first chapter of a work I truly believe will come to rival such masterpieces as War and Peace, The Old Man and the Sea, and Crime and Punishment.

This magnificent novella will be exclusively serialised on this website, and will be the first work to deal with not only the human condition, but the bovine condition.

Marvel as the cows strike back and develop a taste for human flesh!

Tremble as civilisation as we know it bends to the will of bloodthirsty cattle!

Dare to hope as a small band of unwashed, sandal-wearing hippy throwbacks grapple with their consciences and attempt to secure the future of mankind by throwing off their love of tofu, quorn and other tasteless meat substitutes!

All of this will be yours for free, starting as soon as I finish the first chapter.

In a great piece of news for Hungarian democracy, Azerbaijan is to monitor the upcoming elections.

Now, are they coming to check that the elections will be fair (since ODIHR said it was too busy to come), or are they coming to learn how to hold elections?

Either way its a bit of a worry.

In a great piece of news for Hungarian democracy, Azerbaijan is to monitor the upcoming elections.

Now, are they coming to check that the elections will be fair (since ODIHR said it was too busy to come), or are they coming to learn how to hold elections?

Either way its a bit of a worry.

I was walking along the Danube this morning, watching as tons of sweaty men and woman hauled sandbags to bolster up the flood defences. The Danube is at a record high, and already many roads are under water, which at least has the benefit of reducing congestion on those roads.

It struck me that this seemed to be a terribly labour intensive way of fighting the floods, and it doesn’t address the fundamental problem: the level of water.

Fortunately, there is another way. Instead of sand bags, use tea bags.

Now, the immediate advantage of the tea bags is that they are lighter, thus reducing back sprains, etc, but the real beauty comes in the method of reducing the water level.

If the Danube is stocked with lots of tea bags, it will immediately become not a murky, polluted river, but a giant source of tastiness, and let’s face it: the ‘Blue’ Danube is already brown, so a few tea bags won’t make a big difference.

All the government has to do is equip every citizen with a teapot and let them fill up from the river. The water level will drop very quickly, and sales of biscuits will shoot up, boosting the local economy.

I will kick off this process by symbolically dropping a box of PG Tips off the Chain Bridge at 5pm this evening. I urge you to join me and save our historic city.

I was walking along the Danube this morning, watching as tons of sweaty men and woman hauled sandbags to bolster up the flood defences. The Danube is at a record high, and already many roads are under water, which at least has the benefit of reducing congestion on those roads.

It struck me that this seemed to be a terribly labour intensive way of fighting the floods, and it doesn’t address the fundamental problem: the level of water.

Fortunately, there is another way. Instead of sand bags, use tea bags.

Now, the immediate advantage of the tea bags is that they are lighter, thus reducing back sprains, etc, but the real beauty comes in the method of reducing the water level.

If the Danube is stocked with lots of tea bags, it will immediately become not a murky, polluted river, but a giant source of tastiness, and let’s face it: the ‘Blue’ Danube is already brown, so a few tea bags won’t make a big difference.

All the government has to do is equip every citizen with a teapot and let them fill up from the river. The water level will drop very quickly, and sales of biscuits will shoot up, boosting the local economy.

I will kick off this process by symbolically dropping a box of PG Tips off the Chain Bridge at 5pm this evening. I urge you to join me and save our historic city.

I own up. I have an ulterior motive for this blog.

I read last week that many bloggers have had their blogs turned into books, so I am going to use this site to shamelessly plug my screenplays.

So, for all you Hollywood producers out there, here is my first outline of a potential rip-roaring blockbuster.

Forget the cud, we want blood

There have been many zombie movies made down the years, with most revolving around the few remaining humans fighting off the hordes. Never, though, has anyone made a film revolving around an already sinister and zombie-like animal: the cow.

Picture this: The film starts in an abbatoir, with a huge line of cows waiting to be stunned. One cow is particularly feisty, snarling (can cows snarl? – they can in this film) at the apron-wearing, bloody-knife wielding workers. The cow makes a lunge for a worker, grabs his arm in its mouth and masticates on it for a while. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but the bizarre disease infecting the cow (probably from some kind of meteor shower or some such trumped-up idea) has turned its saliva to ACID! OH NO! The unfortunate man finds his arm dissolving into a bloody stump.

The other workers rush to his aid and hack the cow to death. Blood sprays everywhere, and the other cows standing in line become infected. Soon there is mayhem, with lowing zombie-cows shambling everywhere. Even the bone saw isn’t enough to stave off the hordes, and they finish off the employees.

The cows break out onto the street, setting off a chain-reaction that sees the whole of humanity pitted against the once-docile animals that it has so happily-slaughtered. The army gets involved, but the cows brains are so small that it is hard to take them down with the normal zombie-head shot.

Soon only a few hardy survivors remain: vegans who have been living in a commune eating only tofu, grain and parsnips. Can these survivors overcome their love for the doe-eyed zombies and cut a bloody swathe through the herds wandering the empty London streets, or will the cow’s suppressed bloodlust prove too much for them?

Find out in the stunning new film from the brain of one of Budapest’s VII district’s finest Scottish-born, ginger-haired, bespectacled writers.

Should any producers or directors wish to purchase this script, I will accept payment in jelly babies or mars bars.

I should also give some credit for this film to Wayne and Esther, but frankly I’m far too selfish and plan to claim all of the profit and credit for myself.