"Does a horse have Buddha Nature? Neigh! screams Sugar-lump..."

"Does a horse have Buddha Nature? Neigh! screams Sugar-lump..."



Those brave enough to Press Play


Will be rewarded with a uniquely personal and fulfilling experience. (akin to the feeling people get at the highpoint of a televisual "journey")

I want you to picture us as cadre of part-time unqualified sex-therapists. A wandering collective of enthusiast-gynecologists, amateur in the truest and most complete sense of the word, We don't do this for money. We do this for love. We invite you to join us... To become one of the team.

I want you imagine this as possibility. Entertain the idea.
Picture yourself in a white coat shaking hands with several other pseudo-medicinal hobbyists. Sharing our values.
Live there for a moment.

Now I want you to realize that this trip into your imagination has been a little bit to vivid. You we're more than just picturing it. You were experiencing it. you are almost able to feel the skin on latex glove contact of the handshakes. See the softly sinister grins. A reflection of yourself in a pair of NHS standard glasses. Could you be in dream right now? "I hope to god I'm not driving" you think to yourself. your limbs feeling heavy and slow.

"Am I driving?"

Then your attention shifts. You feel nervous. Off Balance. "Why would somebody want to convince me that I'm dreaming?" you think. "What's in it for them?" The it starts to feel like A bad dream. but you stick with it.
All that is bad has the potential to turn good. You are sure about this. It's why you keep listening to that god awful radio show on BCFM.

You are late for work now. Maybe you should try and wake up? You see a chestnut stallion standing alone and confused on a deserted welsh back-road. A streetlight casting yellow light down an avenue of trees. ARAF painted in bold white letters on the floor. You are intrigued... But you're also late for work and no matter how much you beep your horn the damn thing just won't budge. And he looks at at you with those big horse eyelashes and bulging thighs and says.... "Hey baby, got room for one more?"

this, you think... could be the beginning of something beautiful or it could be very painful. Deep inside... their is a stirring. You know that it is right. He is the equine lover you have always dreamed of. That mane. those fetlocks. The way he moves. His hair in the wind. He looks like he's on fire.

You make the decision to say YES!

Then there is a montage. It's you and horse together arm in arm on meadows and sun set beaches... On holiday in New York. Summer in the Hamptons. Weekends on the sofa watching re-runs of Murder She Wrote. He always knows who did it. 'You're so clever' you swoon... These are the salad days.

Its an unconventional wedding with a centaur for a priest. it's an image of an ultra scan in a hospital with twin seahorses making a heart shape in your belly. His Hoof in your hand. You can feel them kicking. 'Chomping at the bit' says the doctor, your lover considers this remark to be culturally offensive but doesn't say anything at the time. he knows this day is important to you and doesn't want to make a scene.

In the coming months the faux pas is forgotten, lost in the lilac fog of your shared Joy.

"It's a Horse!" shouts the doctor. The stallion has never looked so proud. You turn to his chiseled flanks and swoon again. Deeper than you ever thought possible. "I love you sugar-lump... but what the hell is that noise..."

"It's another Horse!" shouts the doctor excitedly

"Neigh!" Screams Sugarlump!

"What? what is it! whats wrong!"

There it is that beeping sound a truck reversing on your happiness. "is something wrong?"

"Neigh! Neigh!"
"Nurse" Screams the doctor. His voice filled with panic.

The beeps, gets faster and faster, crashing into each other to become one solid tone. .  .
All noise is drowned out by the sound of death on a heart rate monitor.

"My Horse Babies! My beautiful, beautiful Horse Babies!

You open your eyes and stare at your bedroom ceiling. you feel your stomach... empty, filled only with ennui.
To your left. On his side of the bed. Your real human partner looks at you like you're crazy.

"Did I just say that out loud?" you say,

And that's when you know:
The biological clock... is ticking.