A Donkey's life.

[Henry]

While this is not news directly related to Colerne, I have put it under news as there seems to have been very little for some time! Since legend (or scurilous rumour) has it, there was once a Donkey buried upside down in the Churchyard, it does have some connection!
I see the flying (Russian) Donkey has made quite a splash, the ripples have reached the Tabloids, and the readers tears are making them soggy. No doubt the Mirror readers will console themselves with a nice Chicken (slung up by the thousand and humanely beheaded) curry, and the Times readers will quickly move on when their Gold nugget and porcelain crowns close on those tender Lamb (the ones they were drooling over in the Spring as they gambolled about) cutlets.
That is a glimpse of the Human race!
Maybe the Donkey was on a treat for winning the local Donkey Derby!!
Has the Donkey filed a complaint???
The Human race has far more to worry about, which it will not face! Unless it can control its insatiable greed and exponential breeding, it is doomed. I have little doubt that the last Donkey will have been eaten before the last man dies.

Henry.

[chrisoverill]

Does anyone know why we're always known as "Colerne Donkeys"?

[Henry]

Hello chrisoverill,
It would be presumptious of me to pass on my version, but I'm sure there are plenty round the hay net who can recount the approved version.
Henry
ps. A Donkey is pretty useful, so it could be taken as a compliment.

[Henry]

Since no head has appeared above the stable door, I post this, with the faint hope that several people might find it of passing interest.

Posted with respect to Wikipedia, from whence it came (and to all Donkeys).

Henry.

The Colerne Donkey
According to village legend, a Colerne parson in former years owned a donkey to which he was much attached. While the clergyman was away, the unfortunate ass died, and the sexton felt it proper to have the beast buried in consecrated ground. But the undertaker, inexperienced in interring specimens of E. asinus, neglected to dig the grave wide and deep enough, so the donkey was buried feet-up with its hooves sticking out. The parson had the animal reburied when he returned, but the story was already out, and well into the 20th century young men from the nearby villages of Box or Marshfield who were at a loose end needed only visit Colerne and mention the word Donkey sufficiently loudly in order to be rewarded with a violent altercation on a moment's notice. It was also the habit for visiting footballers unacquainted with Colerne history to be dispatched to the home dressing room with a piece of sandpaper and instructions to ask to polish the donkey's hooves. This usually resulted in the erstwhile innocent becoming sadder and wiser in short order.

ps. Fighting, during and after local football matches (and at many other social events and excuses) continued well into the 1950's, in fact many events were contrived primarily to that end.

pps. In discreet gossip, it was known that occasionally a young Ass might stray from the village (even as far as Box or Marshfield!) and it was quietly murmurred that there were a few Mules in those far off places.

ppps. It may be of interest to students of literature, that the inherent tendency of the Donkey to stray, inspired that notable work, "From Colerne to Box or Ford" (recently filmed and serialised in this area).
Henry.

[Moonraker]

Thought I would check what is happening on Colerne Forum after the harvest & before this years brewing starts.
Time is precious but it seems I have missed very little.
As a ‘yokel’, I will comment on the ‘asinine’ thread.
I prefer the version I was told way back about the vicar who had to leave the village for a few weeks and trusted a couple of chaps belonging to his parish to look after his donkey while he was away. Unfortunately, the donkey died & not wanting to be accused of selling his donkey and drinking the profits, the couple left the donkey where it fell. After a while it started to smell, so the locals had a meeting and decided to bury the donkey upside down with the hooves protruding from the ground as proof that they had not sold the donkey. To ensure the donkey was recognisable to the Vicar when he returned, the locals set up a rota to polish the hooves.
It sounds far more sensible & worthy of the late good folk of Colerne. I feel sure our Colerne undertakers were canny enough to bury anything properly – be it bounty or body.

[Henry]

That's getting to the root of it, Moonraker! Far more credible than the Wikipedia version. I don't know what the form is, but, for the good name of all Colerne yokels (Donkeys), I think, come a wet day or blue moon, or after a sampling of brew, that you should update Wikipedia.
As you suggest, the country yokel is not the dimwit often portrayed. Of course, with a degree of inbreeding, there was still the village idiot (or two), who could reliably be found on a Friday or Saturday night, in the village pond.
Luckily, your story has also saved readers from the version I was at serious risk of fabricating.

Henry