Please step into the moo queue as it is time for a bovine breathalyser to determine who has been belching methane beyond their daily allowance.

Please remain firmly footed in your moo queue even as the amphibious attack commences because when lives are at steak, you must milk your mettle for all it is worth in order to curdle the attempted hurdles past your line.

Perhaps the moo queue for the field recently gleaned may be shorter than the others because it looks to bear less sustenance, but those freshly scythed grains are, indeed, the sashimis to neighbour’s canned tunas.

Patiently waiting in the moo queue provides time to pick which letteral pressed into the thigh will provide both preferred pasture company and, as well, a personalised sig when derrière shakes a bye-bye. ; )