In deepest Devon, Barry and Dave watch the arrival of coal at the creamery from the safety of the bridge. Today they’re running moonshine laced cider from the nearby independent principality of Somerset, the illicit liquor being hidden inside fibreglass sheep in the trailer behind their Land Rover. Nobody will ever know apart from the fact that they don’t ‘bahhh’, they only rattle together as the trailer makes its way along the bumpy rural lanes of east Devon. But Dave, being a ventriloquist in his former life, is good at surreptitiously making animal noises as and when required.
Doug, ready with shovel, hates Fridays, for he’ll need to move a huge amount of coal about. He has Dizzy Lizzy as his new helper today, but between you and me, she has a record for not sticking at any job longer than it takes for a lettuce to wilt.
And finally, if you zoom in to the right, you can just make out the white clad creamery staff playing chess with milk churns. It’s all part of this new fangled ‘team building’ initiative to avoid staff having to perform any actual work, thus not having a case for any kind of pay rise. To those not in the know, ‘team building’ is a thing created by bloated middle management trying to justify their often pointless positions.
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