Real live caganer crapping in a field

Off the other evening to see Chelsea-Liverpool on a big screen in a village bar in another valley. Coming down from the pass on an old walled stone track, I turn a corner and there’s a flock of goats nibbling the hedges. In the middle of the path, the cloth-capped ruddy-faced goatherd in classic caganero pose, his trousers round his ankles, a great sea of shite pouring out of his arse. He sees me and rapidly pulls his trousers up his boney white legs.

What to do in such circumstances? Introduce yourself and hope you don’t shake the shithand? Farmer JM, when told, laughs himself sick: he hasn’t seen something like that for 20 years; even goatherds are usually more discreet. I detour through the field and forget even to get a photo, so here’s a replay:

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