It Will Kill You: Cows

Cows are pure evil. Think about it – Satan has hooves, cows have hooves. Satan has horns, cows have horns. That’s not a coincidence.

Well alright, it is a coincidence. Cows are still arseholes though. But don’t just take our word for it (actually, do. We’re not prepared to look into this enough to present you with reliable sources and empirical research or any of that – just take our word for it).

Perhaps they have good reason to be arseholes, especially to us humans. What other animal do we exploit as much as the cow? We literally milk them dry. Milk them dry, cut ’em into burgers and wrap their skin around us.

To cattle, we’re nothing more than six billion udder-tampering John Wayne Gacys. We may as well all be permanently dressed up in macabre clown suits with cow skulls for hats, drenched in their blood, exposing ourselves at children’s parties.

The idea of killing a few of us? They’ve certainly got a motive…

Most bovine-related deaths come from stampedes, usually directed at dog-walkers. Former Home Secretary David Blunkett was charged by a cow in the Peak District last year, breaking his rib. The cow had probably heard about some of the MP’s policies on something-or-other!

We don’t know.

Hecklerspray can’t really do political satire. We’re too busy taking the piss of out of Justin Bieber’s hairless pubis and looking up Miley Cyrus’s skirt to watch Newsnight.

Granted, they’re not particularly effective killers: they’ve only got twenty two of us in the last five years in Britain and there are 7.5 million of them. But when a cow decides he’s got beef with you, you’re dead meat. In this dangerous stand-off, the steaks are high – they’ll make mince-meat out of you. A grave-digger will make the hole, a cow will fillet. You don’t stand a chance, you weigh twelve stone and a cow weighs a tonne and that’s offally heavy.


Can you believe you just spend the last few minutes reading this? Veally takes the brisket, doesn’t it?

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  1. says

    Cows are well known killers in the running fraternity.

    You’re on a 15 mile cross country run, on the way home and there they are, a herd of bovine maniacs. Your choice, face them down , or turn tail and end up running 20 miles.

    I like to think of myself as Doctor Dolittle, I can talk to the animals, and we get on OK. This theory holds up until the day I am gored to death by a bull. :roll: