• Hovis’ Friday Diary: ‘The abuse I endure at times is beyond belief’
    by Hovis on December 9, 2022 at 6:45 am

    An example of the sort of ‘abuse’ Hovis has suffered in previous years at Kissmuss. Dear Diary Well, it appears my diary entry from last week has really hit home for many besieged equines, battling the holiday human horror of “festive fun” that seems to involve heavyweight horse humiliation and a LOT of tinsel… Anyways, just a heads up (and if you don’t pay attention a bottoms up, legs up,

  • Hovis’ Friday diary: ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold’
    by Hovis on December 2, 2022 at 7:00 am

    Dear diary, Lord help us but its here again. Back once again like the renegade master (don’t judge me, mother controls my play list, and unlike her waistline, her ears are still stuck where she was in the 90’s). Yep, that “most wonderful time of the year” when frankly all humans lose what’s left of

  • Hovis’ Friday diary: ‘We need to have THE TALK’
    by Hovis on November 25, 2022 at 7:00 am

    Dear diary, First of all, I wanted to start with a massive thank you to all of you who have rushed online and bought both my new book and my new merchandise. I understand it’s flying off the shelves faster than toilet roll in the early days of the human strangles pandemic, which is absolutely

  • Hovis’ Friday diary: ‘There is more water flowing down between my butt cheeks than down the Suez canal’
    by Hovis on November 18, 2022 at 7:00 am

    Dear diary, Well, I’m back, and definitely back down to earth with a bump – or more pointedly, a splash, as mother nature seeks to point out that while many many people think the sun shines out of my bottom, I get wet as much as the next horse. And good God, am I wet.

  • Hovis’ Friday diary: ‘You humans are weird’
    by Hovis on November 11, 2022 at 7:00 am

    Dear diary, So, as you read this, I will be on my way to the cult event Your Horse is Alive. Or at least be stood in a shower room with mother looking at my once white feather with the sort of horror one sees on that “get me a beer” programme, where they munch

  • Hovis’ Friday diary: ‘I am the most handsome gelding in the world’
    by Hovis on November 4, 2022 at 7:00 am

    Dear diary, So, the countdown is firmly on now to Your Horse is Alive. I know this because a) I am highly intelligent and can read a calendar and b) because mother is running about like a blue-footed booby in mating season. Last week, as I told you, I had Evil Army Man come and

  • Hovis’ Friday diary: it’s nearly time to pull off feral to fabulous again...
    by Hovis on October 28, 2022 at 5:44 am

    Dear Diary Apologies for the radio silence last week, but mini-mother and the mothership herself were in Duh bye; I know many people question the contribution mother really makes to the brilliance that is my weekly musing and thus why her being away would change anything, but the reality is it’s much better when she

  • Hovis’ Friday diary: ‘The countdown is now on’
    by Hovis on October 14, 2022 at 6:00 am

    Dear diary, So, the countdown is now on to the cult event, Your Horse is Alive, and the launch of my eighth book. Covers have been designed, mother’s tear-inducing blurb written and the best photos of me selected – that’s the hardest job because, let’s face it, all the good photos of me would fill

  • Hovis’ Friday diary: ‘If mother had been any frostier, Olaf would be suing her for copyright’
    by Hovis on October 7, 2022 at 6:02 am

    Dear diary, It’s been a while since I have dwelled in Casa del Pero, but I find myself there once again as she-who-must-be-obeyed has made it clear I am about as in favour as a Hedgehog in a condom factory. What can I say? It’s not my fault. It’s the time of year; the grass

  • Hovis’ Friday diary: ‘It’s fair to say it’s that time of year...’
    by Hovis on September 30, 2022 at 6:02 am

    Dear Diary, It’s fair to say it’s that time of year when you don’t know whether to be shedding or shivering, whether you want to be romping gloriously naked or screaming loudly for a tog 540 duvet, staying out all night on the green stuff or snuggled up in a stable with a nasty net

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