The field was difficult, though not impossible, to reach; perched as it was on the edge of the old quarry. Mr Jackson wasn't rich and couldn't really afford better. Still, the cows seemed content up there and the recent fad of cow-tipping seemed to have passed.

Except that actually, it hadn't.

As night came the kids drove up to the field, boasting and swearing. Parking, they turned the lights off and lit a spliff to bolster their bravado.

A thump! A few screams and a distant splash later; and only a low chorus of giggled moos broke the silence.