FarmVilleI went on Facebook today. It said this sentence to me.

“Howdy friend! How’d you like to be neighbours? Come join me in FarmVille, where you can grow delicious fruits and vegetables on your very own farm!”

I sort of, a little bit, wanted to cry.

Thanks, but I don’t want to be ‘neighbours’. I don’t want to work on a farm in real life, it sounds fucking horrible. All cold and muddy and that. And I’m not three years old, either. So why would I want to ‘play farm’ online?

In any case, from what I can make out, everyone on FarmVille is really shit at farming anyway.

“Will could really use some help fertilizing their crops in FarmVille!”; “Jane found a sad Ugly Duckling on their farm. Oh no!”

Oh no indeed.

Asinine? Yes. Mundane? Yes. Missed opportunity? Definitely.

I mean, if it’s going to be possible to fuck up the farming on a made-up farming game that grown-ups are going to play, why not let it be possible to REALLY fuck up?

Some suggestions:

Karl’s arm was up to the elbow in a cow’s arse today. His Rolex is still up there. Oh no!

Jenny walked a trembling calf into a little booth and fired a metal bolt through its brain so we can all eat it for lunch on Sundays. Yum!

Matthew was visited by a pretentious, double-barrelled TV chef after leaving a shed full of daylight-starved, featherless chickens to peck out each others’ redundant eyes.

Emma accidentally burst a goose while making foie gras. Bang!

Kevin successfully contained an outbreak of foot-and-mouth by shooting all his livestock one by one then burning them in a big pile.

Mark could really use some help getting the fleeces off his 200-strong flock of sheep because he’s lost his shearing equipment and is having to do it with a Gillette Mach3 instead.

Feel free to add more. It’s got to be more fun than Facebook, surely?


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