A Baa-aaa-aaa-d Man

I know there's a "Baa Ram Ewe" joke in here somewhere, but I'm not going to look any closer than I have to.

I just want a moment here to talk to the lambs. Look, I know he must seem exciting in Chislehurst: the man from the big city, London!, with his flashy jogging bottoms and his party drugs. But don't do it. Sure you'll get high, but he's a freak. You're going to regret those "candid photos" when they end up on the internet, and even if you don't end up doing a Michael Hutchence like those other two, you're going to be left with nothing but heartache and a pair of his crusty underpants while he scarpers off to his flat and a jar of mint jelly.

Not even once, lambs, not even once.

At first glance, I know it seems like they have set perfectly legitimate conditions for bail, but how many "farmyards" really lie within the jurisdiction of the London Metropolitan Police, aside from the occasional heavy petting zoo?