I hear that a load of drunken Newcastle supporters have called all sorts of problems in Japan, the tight bastards. The two-leggeds went out for a meal the other night to celebrate something or other, I don't know what it was they never tell me anything. The little feller, what's he called, George yeah that's it, ordered a rib-eye steak and then decided that he didn't like it, which was good news for me. I wasn't too keen on the caramelised shallots in balsamic though, so I just pushed them to one side. Pooh count: 4, and it's not even teatime yet. I do hope it's sausages.
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.