A horse with a name


I suppose I got off lightly over the mad few Save our Stables weeks. Nobody clipped ‘SOS’ into my bum, and I thought the ‘Thank you!’ sign hung round my neck was quite fetching. I made a special point of wiggling it in the background for the TV cameras when the humans were saying their piece. After all, I needed to remind them of why we were all there, and who it is that really runs this place. My assistant Natalie is coming along nicely, but I’m still training her up.


It was a smart move of mine to mention that I have no teeth as these new humans now all want to give me carrots to suck. I’m happy to show them how it’s done, though they say practice makes perfect and I’m setting my sights on perfection. I’m less sure about being known by all and sundry as ‘the horse with no teeth’, which is a bit of a comedown for a horse of my noble pedigree, but I’ll continue to work on my celebrity profile. And on carrots. I must try to catch Natalie and ask if she’s found me an agent yet.


The question everyone asks is ‘where does your name come from?’ After all that TV coverage where I was introduced as either ‘Podney’ or ‘Rodney’ it’s time to set the record straight.


I’m a Russian gentleman, but when I arrived here nobody could read my name in my Russian papers. I became Prodney because that’s what it looked like. It’s more likely that as a foal I was known as Ryaodpech, but my memory’s a little hazy. I wonder what the journalists would have made of that?




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