A new home

Just as things seemed to be getting totally out of hand with the shrews, Jenny Donkey came to the rescue. It could have been even better too, but she had to be "sensible". Bo Urr.

What happened was that Jenny talked to some of the local squirrels one afternoon when the boy was out, and they told her about a place that sounded just right for the shrews. It's called the Botanical Gardens, and it's full of greenery and better still, the glasshouses are all heated, so that the little ones would be fine. Well, we smuggled all the shrews out of the Boy's room (Oi don't think he ever noticed them) and marched in a small, but quite long crocodile formation all the way down to the Gardens. On the way there, Oi had moi brainwave. If people pays to get into places loike that, how much more would they pay to see shrews that Oi have trained at great personal expense to do tricks like forming shrew pyramids?

Unfortunately, no sooner had Oi got a sign made up, and some attractive pink tickets to sell, than Jenny came along and nuzzled me out of the door, saying "I don't think that is a very good idea, do you, Mole dear?" Well, Oi tried saying "Yes, Oi does actually" but you know how determined (read "stubborn") a donkey can be, and I had to leave them there.

Oi suppose it was all for the best in the end. We had to find somewhere for they shrews, as the end of term is fast approaching, and we couldn't leave them on their own all through the holidays. And Oi knows where to find them if Oi needs them again for one of moi master plans!

A big babysitter

Well, Oi thought things would get easier as the baby shrews got bigger. You see, they grow very quickly and get through the stage of being helpless and crying all the while in no time. Unfortunately, Oi didn't realise that this means that they then need entertaining all the time. It's not dignifoied for a Mole to have a dozen shrews hanging on his paws all day, saying "What can I do now, Mr Mole" over and over again. Oi tried delivering my lecture on "Exploits of a Renaissance Mole - Wit and Wisdom in the 21st Century", but they just got bored. No pleasing some creatures. And it was illustrated by attractive pictures of great moles through the ages (all inpersonated by yours truly, of course).

In the end, there was only one thing for it - dump them on some other poor sap. The Toa didn't look too pleased with being pressed into service, but they were surpisingly patient, and the shrewbabes loved it!

The patter of tiny feet...

...hundreds of the bloighters! Oi discovered why there seemed to be more shrews than before. Apparently, shrews are very romantic creatures (can't say as Oi ever noticed afore) and being cooped up in the Boy's cupboard has given them little else to do. The result is that we now have a very large number of additional mouths to feed. I have got all moi work cut out just making cots and prams out of matchboxes for the little whatsits. You should see the size of the flame Oi got when Oi set fire to all they matches to get rid of them!

Oi just hope the Boy doesn't work out where all his hankies have gone, or why he's having to buy a lot of milk at the moment. It's no good, they're going to have to go. Oi'm told that they will "need amusing" as they get bigger. What do they think Oi am, a shrew entertainer??

Courtroom Chaos

Well, Oi survived my court appearance to tell the tale, but Oi have to admit that it did not exactly go smoothly! All went well until the time came for Cyril the Squirrel to make his initial submissions to the court. At this point, the University's lawyer kept interrupting and asking him to repeat what he had said. Anyone would think he'd never heard proper legal squeaking before. As you can imagine, Cyril found this very irritating, and after one particularly supercilious interjection, he snapped. He scurried across the floor, ran up the lawyer's trouser leg, hopped onto his bonce and made off with his wig. There was pandemonium in the court, but Cyril combines a quick legal mind with a turn of speed rarely found in County Courts and he was gone before they could catch him.

Things looked a bit bleak for a while, as Oi was now not represented at all. Fortunately, it turned out that the Judge was "fond of squirrels" having been a member of the Tufty Club in his youth. So let me off, but Oi got a stern warning as to moi behaviour in the future.

All's well that ends well, Oi suppose. Cyril is now happily snuggled down in his drey with a new and comfortable mattress, and Oi've gone back to the boy's room. There's one problem that hasn't gone away though - shrews. And for some reason there seems to be more of them than ever. Lots of smaller ones have appeared - what on earth could have caused that?

Nice one Cyril!

Just as things were looking at their blackest, new hope appears in furry form!

Oi was starting to get very worried about the writ from the University over moi slightly optimistic booking of the Sheldonian. Even worse than the astronomical bill, was the reference to them sending the "Bulldogs" round if Oi didn't pay up. Oi've had too many run ins with dogs to want to risk that, even if they do wear bowler hats round here for some reason!

So what Oi needed was some top notch legal advoice. And 'oo should come to moi rescue than one of they pesky squirrels that was giving me problems a couple of weeks ago. Oi was gazing out of moi window in a soulful yet attractive manner when he knocked on the glass. Fearing a trick, Oi was at first reluctant to let him in, but one hearing him shout the magic words "No win, no fee" through the double glazing, Oi decided to give it a go.

Anyway, his name is Cyril, and he has promised that he will be able to run rings around the University's lawyers, get me off the charge for the Theatre and possibly even get me damages for mental distress. Having seen him scuttle up a tree in no time at all, Oi'm sure he's right. He may have a very squeaky voice, but Oi'm convinced - Oi shall have moi day in court!

Who can help a poor mole?

Oi am sorry to say that the inaugural meeting of the OUSS was not quite the great success Oi was anticipating. For a start the number of students who turned up was very disappointing. Oi blame the modern educational system for not encouraging them to take a proper interest in insectivore culture. It also possible that the plates of “dips” (tastily involving worms and other invertebrates) were a factor - Oi was very surprised at the negative reaction of many of the students, especially the female ones. Nobody at all paid the subscription, with the result that the Shrews are still eating a poor Mole out of house and home – and how much longer will the Boy fail to notice the vast number of rodents occupying his wardrobe?

Worst of all, the lack of income from the event has put me in a difficult position with the University with regard to certain fees due for the venue. Perhaps Oi was a little ambitious hiring the Sheldonian Theatre - but Oi needed something that would fit in with moi robes o' state. Now they have slapped a writ on me - who on earth can Oi turn to to help me out of this fix?

The dawn of the OUSS!

Oi've had a brainwave! During moi toime down here in Oxford, Oi have observed that these students are slaves to fashion, always willing to follow the latest trend. Why just the other day, the boy went out with all his friends, and they was dressed oidentical, all in dark suits with white bow ties and strange gowny things.

Also, Oi have noticed that they are very addicted to joining clubs and societies - there's hardly an activity or interest that doesn't have a group dedicated to it. So, what Oi have decided to do is to combine the two - create a society, where the main entrance requirement is the possession of an item of small size, but great attraction, such as will create a new craze.

In short, Oi have founded the Oxford University Shrew Society! The first meeting is already scheduled, and Oi have selected some suitable robes of office, befitting the president and founder. Oi think you'll find them suitably tasteful and understated. My owner worry is whether "Dean of Shrews" or "Archchancellor of Rodentry" is the better title for moi office.

Once the Society becomes a success, as it surely will, everyone in Oxford will want to hire their own shrew and Oi shall become a millionaire. At least.

I'm just too successful!

As ever, it seems that Oi is a victim of moi own genius! Moi plan to lure the shrews here to Oxford worked like a dream - in fact it worked too well. By Wednesday morning this week, there were upwards of two hundred shrews in my room. Now the boy's scout is very understanding, but even she moight be a bit spooked by that number of our squeaky brethren. Therefore, Oi had to think of a new plan, to disperse them slightly. Oi decided to dispatch all but a small core team of support shrews (so as some of them gets use to doing moi bidding). What better place, Oi thought than Keble College, as Oi understands it is pretty well full of rodents anyway.

Moi mistake! It turns out that shrews are very sensitive to ugly architecture and they were all back within the hour! Well Oi suppose Einstein and that Da Vinci bloke had their crosses to bear, so I will face up to the burden of moi genius with moi normal indomitable spirit.

Oi'll tell the boy to sort it out.

Plan B

Well Oi'm absolutely outraged! Oi received an email this morning on moi Googlemole account from they shrews. They've only gone off to somewhere called Cambrodge, to study Political Science! Oi believes that Cambridge is in nasty swampy country, quite unsuited to civilised burrowin' animals. Oi know shrews aren't as particular in their tastes as Moles, but surely there's a limit?

Anyway, they are no use to me over in Cambridge, so Oi have devised a cunning plan. Oi am sending them an email back telling them about Oxford. Oi may have been slightly economical with the truth here and there. For instance, Oi'm not absolutely sure that all shrews get a personal servant who brings them worms and orange juice while they lie on a sun bed all day long, but Oi expect something like that moight be true. Probably.

The main thing is that they realise that they'd be better off here, and they can certainly fit in a bit of time serving moi every need once they're here...

(PS from Bobby. Steg wants me to say that he "helped" me type this post into the blog ndn. Maybe "help" means something different in Dinosaur. Never mind he's a very enthusiastic fellow anyway)

Disaster Strikes

Them pesky squirrels! 'Ow was oi supposed to know that Oxford squirrels are highly eddycated, especially in contract law. Apparently, oi made “a number of elementary mistakes when drafting my contract”. 'Ow do these furry-tailed bloighters get to learn such long words, that’s what oi’d loike to know! Anyway, one of them “slipped” on the peanut butter on the way in through the window, and it appears that oi am now legally bound to provide them with a bushel of conkers per day, or be sued for damages!

What’s a bloomin’ bushel anyway? Oi shall assume it means ten for now. It’s hard work collecting these conkers – do these squirrels think they grow on trees? I am clearly going to have to get even more cunning if oi am to outsmart the locals. Who’d have thought that Oxford would be full of intelligent animals?

‘Ello again!

I am putting moi plan into action. Knowing that, unlike Moles, squirrels are none too bright, and are easily led by their stomachs, I decided to entice them in using nuts as bait. Unfortunately, The Boy appears to have neglected to bring any hazelnuts with him! He brought all sorts on unnecessary stuff loike books, but fell far short of moi expectations on materials for plottin’. No matter, oi am a resourceful Mole, and I soon realized that his newly opened jar of peanut butter would serve the purpose admirably. To reduce the possibility of the squirrels missing the scent, oi opened the windows, then smeared peanut butter on the curtains, and finally left a trail of dollops across the floor towards moi patent squirrel trap.
The trap consists of a loop of string on the floor in front of a piece of paper on which oi have written a large number of complex terms and conditions regarding the use of peanut butter in college grounds (these are completely imaginary, of course, but everything else here seems to have bizarre and ancient rituals and rules, so these won’t stand out at all). As you probably know, squirrels are easily confused by legal matters, so while they are studying them, oi should have plenty of time to yoink the string tight and bag moiself a loyal servant. Failing that, they might soign the document, including the cunningly concealed “obey the Mole” clause. Either way, I’m the winner – what could possibly go wrong?

Dear Molefans everywhere!

Oi have arroived here in Oxford, accompanied by moi Boy. It is moi intention to keep 'ee all informed of moi progress by the use of this ’ere internetty thing. No doubt it will be a story of unbroken success and will be an inspiration to all of you less fortunate mammals.

We arrived last week and moi room (which oi have graciously allowed The Boy to share) is pleasant enough, but has one major drawback. It isn’t on the ground floor! How is a mole supposed to undertake his duties as Dean of Tunnelin’ when the first step in a burrow would drop him ten foot to the floor below?? The Boy seems preoccupied with other matters at the moment, but oi shall pick the roight moment to raise this with him. Oi needs to get started as, on the way in through the college, oi spotted a gurt big lawn, that’s just crying out for an industrious chap such as moiself to decorate it with a few strategically placed molehills.

Moi other main concern at present is the lack of a suitable entourage of obedient shrews. Oi don’t know where they’ve got to, but they have been particularly stroppy of late, so maybe it’s for the best that oi find some new creature to do moi bidding. Oi have spotted a number of squirrels out of the window when the boy’s been out, and I am forming a plan to recruit a squirrel battalion. Watch this space!