The Latest in Equine News

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,

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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