The dubious legend of Daniel and the Beancounter

It’s the opening day of the long awaited Summer market, and Old Mother Lewis, tired of trying in vain to get any milk from their once prized Belgian cow, sends her bastard son, young Daniel, off to town to sell Mousa, and perhaps trade up for a younger, fitter, more productive cow. 

Along the way, Daniel happened across a small man in a beret, speaking in such strange guttural tones that could only be French.  “What I ‘ave for you,” said the man, “is more valuable than any cow; I have for you beans, but no ordinary beans. These are Parisian ‘Mbappe’ beans! Take good care of them, water them, and tend to them regularly, and they will bring you more riches and success than you have ever had from your slow, tired old cow.”

Young Daniel thought for a moment about how upset Old Mother Lewis would be at such a one sided transaction, and retorted ”Flip that, you Froggie tw@t, my old Mother has a massive bag of gold coins under her bed, so we don’t need your beans. But I’ll tell you what, how about you take two hind legs of my ropey old cow today, and two front legs next Summer, followed by the rest of the carcass in Summer 2020, but you pay me exactly the same that the cow was worth 5 years ago, when in its prime?” Needless to say, the French man scuttled off with his beans, muttering expletives about the Queen.

Further on, but still a long way away from the town, Daniel met a man dressed in resplendent Lederhosen, sitting on a large block of cheese. The man eyed up Daniel’s cow, and said “I could put a bell on this cow and take it to the Swiss mountains to graze on my land, and I will give you some beans in return. But these are no ordinary beans – these are magic Egyptian ‘Salah’ beans.

If you tend to them, and ensure they are cultivated properly in the right conditions, then they will provide you and your family with everything that you can desire for the rest of your days.”  Daniel could barely conceal his disdain as he laughed back at the man “Me and my Old Mother already have a goose that lays golden eggs, you thigh-slapping moron. And it’s slap bang in the middle of town, where everyone who comes to see it pays large amounts of gold to us twice a week. Why would I want your poxy beans? Tell you what though, what if you take this cow on loan for a year in case it’s starts to miraculously produce milk again, and I’ll have those beans for the price of a chicken?

If they deliver what you say they will, we will pay you half of any profit over £100 million spread across the next 10 years, amortized against any future transfer dealings between us. How does that sound, you watch making cheese sucker?” Daniel then realized the man had long stopped listening to him, and had struck up what seemed to be an amiable conversation with one of his Russian neighbours, who was very interested in all the beans the man had. 

The road to town was long, and miserable but Daniel continued regardless, and after several long drawn out conversations with people along the way, all offering him various strains of ‘magic’ beans, such as those from the midlands of England, ‘Zaha’ beans by way of the Ivory Coast, and many, many more exotic South American beans, he became weary.

All these bold traders seemed unwilling to agree terms with Daniel that would make the Kray Twins blush, and the town market was almost at a close. As he was just about to call an Uber, and fly tip his worn old cow in Stratford on the way home, Daniel per-chanced upon one last man coming towards him, away from town, dragging with him a cow even more tired, and worn out than Daniel’s with its saggy loose-teated udder scraping along the dirt road. The state of this cow suggested a man of little means but Daniel could tell he was well fed due to the largeness of his stomach, and the ashtray sized Rolex watch upon his wrist. 

“Why are you leaving town Sir? And with your old cow unsold?” enquired Daniel. “Don’t be fooled, young Sir,” said the man, in a gruff cock-a-ney accent, “Its the last knockings of the Summer market, and I have just bought this wretched cow to keep my dependants in far away northern lands happy. It came highly recommended, and extremely cheaply to me via a Scottish cow dealer who showed me a YouTube video compilation from the European cow Championships 2016” Daniel thought for a while.

“And how could I get such a cow?” He asked of the shiny, purple-faced geezer. “Well you have one already, I can see, so why not just give it a new contract? This will make your Old Mother, and all of your family believe that your foot and mouth riddled old sack of sh*t is actually going to a job for you this coming winter. Alternatively, I will give you my most recent purchase for something valuable of yours!” said the boorish barra-boy, “What, pray-tell could you offer me young man?”

Again Daniel mused, then declared, “Flip it, I’ll do both. I’ll keep mine, and I’ll have yours – I have a golden harp that we don’t need any more. It will make anyone within earshot of your farm dance to any tune you care to play to the mugs. I don’t need it now that I have the golden goose laying golden eggs in the town centre”. Of course the fat alcoholic jumped at the chance! “This should make my life much easier when I head back up north.” He declared, as he let out a squirty fart of excitement that reeked of brown ale and jellied eels.

So Daniel, chuffed with his world class negotiation skills, prepared himself and his now two tired old cows to head home. But just before he set off he turned to the cockney villain one more time, and asked “What is your old cow called?”

The man chuckled “Moussa” 
“But now I have two Moussas” said Daniel.
“No problem” said the wide boy, “you can call your new one Sissoko.”
And with that they shuffled off back to their respective kingdoms to talk of their myriad adventures, and pull much wool over many eyes. Oh, and of course, they both lived happily ever after!