A Farmyard Fable of Resistance, Red Tape, and Revolution
Colin the Cock is a British farmyard satire packed with eccentric animals, bureaucratic chaos, and an outbreak of political nonsense.
In a quiet corner of the English countryside, the dawn is crowed into chaos. Colin is a rooster with more enthusiasm than talent – and a crow that sounds like a bagpipe being throttled in a wind tunnel. When a government inspection threatens to erase Niblet Farm under a barrage of forms, acronyms, and laminated menace, Colin is exiled to the compost heap. But he’s not alone.
Enter Rattigan, a conspiracy-theorist rat with a filing fetish, and Gigi, a paranoid goose who believes shadow politics are real (and probably under her pond). Together, they discover that fighting back means paperwork, protest, and poultry-powered propaganda.
As the RDOB’s red tape escalates into rebranding and gentrification, the farm’s animals must rise. Not with pitchforks – with petitions, mime protests, and misplaced hashtags.
Colin the Cock is a riotous satire of bureaucracy, cultural erasure, and the quiet power of refusing to shut up. Perfect for fans of Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett – or anyone who’s ever felt steamrolled by a clipboard.
Because compliance is taught, enforced… and submission is often easier than refusal.
***Available on Amazon Early 2026***
The residents of Niblet Farm are not heroes - and none of them asked for this
The World & its Inhabitants
Colin the Cock
Loud, earnest, and spectacularly unqualified. Colin’s crow is an acoustic incident, his timing unreliable, and his grasp of strategy largely theoretical. What he does have is an inconvenient habit of noticing when things are wrong, and refusing to shut up about it. He is an accidental leader in an age that prefers silence.
Rattigan the Rat
Archivist, conspiracist, and custodian of the compost heap’s unofficial records. Rattigan understands the system because he has read it. All of it. Twice. With notes. He believes nothing is accidental, everything is filed somewhere, and that the truth is usually hidden behind a form labelled Miscellaneous.
Gigi the Goose
Paranoid, anxious, and deeply suspicious of calm ponds. Gigi believes shadow politics are real, that surveillance is everywhere, and that danger is imminent, which would be easier to dismiss if she weren’t so often correct. She lives permanently on high alert. Sleeps badly. Honks with purpose.
Eaton Blatherwick
Field inspector. Clipboard carrier. Procedural absolutist. Blatherwick does not make policy – he enforces it, loudly and without curiosity. He believes rules are neutral, inspections are apolitical, and that any inconvenience caused is evidence the system is working. He measures compliance in ticks, violations in margins, and resistance as a paperwork error.
Crispin Bacon
Senior figure at the RDOB. Brand strategist. Reformer. Crispin believes in progress, provided it is properly branded, focus-grouped, and launched with a reassuring colour palette. He speaks fluently in acronyms, sees resistance as a communications problem, and remains baffled by animals who refuse to cooperate with their own improvement.
A clash of unstoppable wills against immovable rules, chaos, contempt, and defiance took the field.
An excerpt from Colin the Cock
The inspector was due at eight. In preparation, Mr Niblet had been awake since five, sweeping mud off mud, forking hay, and trying to make his overalls look ironed. At precisely 7:30, a spotless white van pulled up outside the farm gates and halted with bureaucratic purpose.
The doors swung open like a synchronised swimming display at the Beijing Olympics. Two officious types emerged, armed with clipboards, pens, and laminated badges that caught the sun like tactical mirrors. A distinct whiff of dry RDOB policy wafted across the yard, followed by a scent reminiscent of freshly painted passive aggression.
Inspector Eaton Blatherwick led the way. (Eaton was his first name, not coincidentally, the school he attended.) He wasn’t smart, but he was cunning. His pale, stiff body radiated arrogance as he held his clipboard like a sidearm. He looked like a man whose face would crack if he smiled. His name badge read: Inspector E. Blatherwick, Senior Environmental Impact Facilitator, Grade C, Subdivision 5, RDOB Midlands South.
In government circles, he was known as the ‘Big C’; this title had nothing to do with his official position and everything to do with his nose, which resembled the front end of a Concorde jet. It cut through conversation with the force of a seagull ripping open a bag of chips.
His aide, Quintin Jenkins, followed like a soggy sock stuck to a brothel creeper. He carried an extra clipboard, a thermal flask, and a roll of hazard tape. With his ginger hair, freckled face, and sweaty skin, he looked like he’d lost a bet with the sun. His frown suggested his IQ struggled to negotiate terms with room temperature.
As they marched across the yard, they inspected everything: blades of grass, out-of-place feathers, even the angle of cow-dung splatter. A mechanical beep came from a compliance meter. Jenkins licked his pencil and made a definite note.
Step into the barnyard, join the coop, and grab your copy!
Loud. Absurd. Uncomfortably familiar. Colin the Cock is a British farmyard satire about bureaucracy, power, and the trouble caused by one rooster who won’t keep quiet.
Got questions, quibbles, or just want to gossip about t
he coop?
Reach out here – No paperwork required.
