Return of the Pipeline 12

“Come the frosts it’s time to abandon the conventional and go guerilla grousing”

MUG of tea in hand, our farmer unveiled a giant sketchpad of the kind adored by middle-rank executives on ‘brainstorming away-days’.

“As we know, the Pipeline 12 are ,” he said, scrawling some crosses with a marker pen. “And we enter the field , at which point the Pipeline 12 disappear into our neighbour’s land .” We nodded dutifully, wondering why he was speaking in a Pathé newsreel accent. “Well, thanks to careful negotiating by the headkeeper, known to most of you as.”