The big double gates of the holding paddock were swung open. Cattle bellowed, whips cracked, voices shouted out. Pat rode up to Alex. 'Come on, boyo, come on, we're not here to fuck spiders.' Alex grinned at him and cracked his whip.

An hour later, and with the M6 behind them, Clara took the B5470 out of Macclesfield and found herself driving through rolling hills of lush green farmland criss-crossed with a threadwork of drystone walls.

Those impious Pigs, Who, by frequent squeaks, have dared impugn The settled Swellfoot system, or to make Irreverent mockery of the genuflexions Inculcated by the arch-priest, have been whipt Into a loyal and an orthodox whine.

an animated film