Jersey bull calves are affordable, reliable moneymakers

Well, the front page of this paper last week had me in floods of tears.

I was inconsolable at the breakfast table, and my missus had to do all she could to buoy me up.

“Here, have another sausage,” says she, before emptying the pan once more onto my plate.

“Tis no good,” I wailed, while shaking the Farming section in front of her.

“This picture here of the Jersey calf surrounded by a bunch of people has my heart broken entirely.”

And even though I did eventually eat the extra sausage, my heart simply wasn’t in it.

And ’twas no wonder I was so upset, for the Jersey calf was a smasher.

A heifer I presume, but oh, how I would have loved to believe that the calf had been a bull.

You see I owe everything to the Jersey bull. But for the Jersey bull, I wouldn’t be in business at all at this stage.

It all began two years ago, with the bank manager at my door demanding I repay this thing or that.

My missus told him that I had taken to the bed on account of my financial woes.

Anyhow, the next thing she came up with this crazy notion that I should buy a few calves in an effort to keep the wolf from the door.

“Twould be far better than all your old moaning around the place,” says she.

“By golly,” says I, peering up from under the duvet, “you just might be onto something.”

So the next thing, I headed off to the mart.

ut alas, I soon discovered that real calves cost a lot of money.

“You’d want to have the pockets of Donald Trump” says I to a drover, “to secure a calf here.”

But then, suddenly my life was to change, when into the ring came this golden creature with the eyes of a doe and the backbone of a greyhound.

“One euro anyone, anywhere!” the auctioneer cried in desperation.

It was a Jersey bull, you see. Silence descended on the ring, and if it did, up came the hand of Lehane.

The rest, as they say, is history.

For the past two years, I have been snapping up golden calves like crazy. They were cheap to buy, and a wonder to feed.

Your common or garden Jersey bull calf will drink milk ’til the cows come home, and will never get sick with scour or anything of that nature.

Whereas your €500 Belgian Blue calf with the backside of Kim Kardashian could well get any one of a hundred aliments to put him six feet under, your €1 Jersey bull is too busy drinking to be interested in dying.

He’s a survivor. I never lost a Jersey. A monkey could rear the devils.

Anyhow, by the end of it all, it was like the Channel Islands here, with the height of Jerseys. And I like Bergerac himself, keeping law and order.

Of course, the one and only problem with the Jersey bull calf is, while he can be simple to purchase, he can be the devil entirely to sell on again. But sell them I did. And money I made, too.

So this January, back to the mart I went.

And with my pockets bulging from Jersey money, didn’t I decide to buy real fancy calves this time for fancy money, only to get houses of scour and oceans of trouble in return.

So ’twas no wonder then that I cried, when I saw my old Jersey. For if I had stuck with my Jersey bull, I’d have been the happy man.