My horse has no legs. Right now he is sitting alone in his field, with a small patch of grass eaten away infront of him. We have to mow the rest, otherwise it'll grow too high and start chaffing his shoulders. We bought him three years ago from an old man with a pipe in his mouth. It was a very good purchase and we have never had any complaints, although, the old man did try and sell us a extended warranty. We know all about extended warranties from seeing Watchdog with Anne Robinson that one time.

My horse is a male, but his name is Josephine. I don't know exactly why this is. I think that it is a silly name for a horse, especially a man horse, but I never say this when I am around him. I think a much better name for my horse would be Johnathon.

My horse likes being stroked and patted and taken out and about. We can't afford a horse box and so to avoid him falling over or rolling about we usually just attach him to our roof rack. He likes that very much, even more so when we go down the motorway. We have to stop every few miles however, to scrape the flies from his face.

My Horse Has No Legs


My job is to feed him. It is a job that comes with a lot of responsibility. If I don't feed him, or feed him the incorrect type of food, such as gravel or nails, he might die. I like to feed him hay and carrots and rice and mints. Although he especially likes been fed mints. I have to be careful not to let him gobble up too many though, as the vet has warned me that they will make his tummy poorly.

Sometimes the local thugs from the village down the road, break into the field and tease my horse with sugar cubes and prosthetic limbs. They try and get him so excited that he falls over on his side. When he falls over they laugh at him until he cries. Horses only cry when they are very sad.

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©2002 Darren Cullen (
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