Once upon a time there were three farmers who lived in a little village. They were all flat out on their farms and needed some help to clean-up the bullshit from their back paddocks. It was agreed that each would use a different method to find a worker, so as not to become competitive with one another, in their small village.

The first farmer did try ringing his friends: firstly, he called Alice. He once serviced her up the back passage, behind the cow sheds - she purchased the oil - and he did all the work. He gave her a call, and was sure for some assistance: "I'm sorry, I must take the children to soccer practise," she said, apologetically. Not to worry he thought, I'll try Andrew, his friend from the Halfway House, a public house in the village: " Sorry, my shovel is broken, but, I'm up for a beer," he said, eagerly. Well, that's no good, the thought. How about, little Tommy, his second cousin once removed? Tommy, would be interested! "Can you give me some numbers?" he asked. "Hourly rates, holiday entitlement, heath and accident insurance, etc?" But, the farmer just wanted someone to shovel shit, and had made no provision for such...

The second farmer was a little more savvy in his approach, he would use an employment agents to work for him. They only needed a small fee, and he could make up the lost margins from the methane he would produce for the villagers over winter. A meeting was arranged, and the wheels were set in motion: There would be a blanket advertising campaign; Facebook pages, media and recruiting drives - advertisements of every type. The girls from the agency seemed professional - they used every resource at their disposal. Soon there would be hundreds of applicants, and reason enough for the girls to make some type of completion out of it - so they did. The farmer was a little uneasy, as over a week had passed by, and time gave him the feeling he was knee deep in it. He needed not worry however, as the girls were extremely efficient. Soon, they return with three interviewees for the position. They looked smart, and professional, too. The farmer asked the first of the interviewees: "Have you worked with BSE before?" ... "I've had lots of office experience," he replied. That was no good the farmer said, he needed a laborer, not a pencil pusher. "What's your experience with cows?" he asked the second. "Did you just call me a cow?" the second, replied... before shouting out, 'sexual discrimination,' and storming out of the room. The third must be of better pedigree he wondered as they wheeled him in...

The third farmer wasn't a bright man, he'd seen it all before though. The best approach he mused was an advertisement in the fishing shop window, so off he set, into the village. Several days had passed before he got a knock at the door. "Hello, my name is Jenny, and this is my daughter, Eve." Eve was a little retarded you see, but she said, "Hello..!" and, "...nice to meet you." "Hello," the farmer said with a smile.And invited them in for tea. "We have come about the job, for Eve... she's a good worker, and doesn't mind getting her hands a little dirty; she thrives on repetitive, task orientated work." She was just what he was looking for... her mother was also very lovely, with a cumbersome bosom, and three years widowed...

A short play by yours truly, written as a stop motion script for Tim Burton.