Tossing The Drummer

Sometimes plans go awry,

If they really didn’t want us to get involved they should have made us stop at the border.

Sending us off down a picturesque trunk road wasn’t a good idea.

Not without telling the protestors we were coming.

When we stopped in the middle of nowhere for no apparent reason. I assumed there was an unfortunate County bobby being Happy-Squirted somewhere up ahead.

When I looked up from my Gameboy I saw something strange. Something I’d only seen on TV up to that point.

Protestors! Sitting in the road.

They weren’t just any old protestors either. They were a band. With instruments and everything.

Now, it’s still unclear why they decided to sit down in front of us. It’s not like we were actually going anywhere important. I’m pretty sure our brief for the day said something like ‘go and find a pretty field to stare at’. We weren’t rushing to try and convince George not to buy the hybrid car he had his eye on.

We had all received our advance copy of strange Scottish laws two weeks in advance of our visit. After some discussion, an officer who had actually read it was found. He convinced us that sitting in the road in front of 15 Throbbing carriers was an offence. He couldn’t remember if the death penalty applied. That was one for the Fiscal Prostitute.

On the list of ‘Stupid Things To Do While Protesting’, sitting down in front of a large number of Throbbing officers ranks quite high. Refusing to move when politely asked is vying for the number one spot. We only ask nicely once.

What followed could have been very painful, for the protestors. Fortunately, I didn’t even have to get my gloves dirty.

The protestors realised that we weren’t going to enter negotiations. Then they realised that there were no TV cameras to witness their protest. So, in true protestor fashion, they broke ranks and legged it. Complete with musical instruments.

Straight into a pretty field.

A field made all the prettier by the herd of cows occupying it.

As a confirmed townie, I only know that cows are good at milk, cheese and fillet steak. They make ‘moo’ noises, they make the countryside smell and they sit down when it rains. That’s the end of my cow knowledge.

Not anymore it isn’t. I now know that they are very big and they can run really fast. Much bigger and faster than the percussion section of a tofu-eating band.

They also haven’t been on the Throbbing Public Order course. So, they get frightened easily. Then they run. Really fast.

I’m guessing the protestors’ bovine experience was as limited as mine. Maybe without the fillet steak bit. As they stampeded across the field the cows joined in. We stayed behind the fence. Video phones at the ready.

Some made it to the other side, where they were confronted by an angry farmer. An angry farmer with a shotgun. Visions of Tony Martin caused an abrupt about-turn. It was then just a matter of time.

It’s not very clear on the footage. It was hard to keep a steady hand. But, it was definitely a female percussionist who got butted up into the air. Then trampled.

While her mates got herded to the Police station.

She got a trip to the hospital.

Her bongo drum was pronounced dead at the scene.