Christ, I thought I was hard done by until Johnny Colman sent me this link to a series of images in the Daily Bellylaugh of a poor creature that they bill as "Jack the Balancing Dog" who "loves to balance household items on his head," they gleefully tell us. "And the Australian cattle dog is happy to impress by balancing items including a football, books, a kettle, and an egg - all in return for the cheers and praise of his San Franciscan owners," they go on. I fucking knew it, Septics. Look at the pictures. Does Jack look like he's having fun to you? He looks fucking well pissed off to me, and I don't blame him, "come on Jackie boy, lets put a kettle on your head." The tight Septic bastards. The only image where Jack does look like he's having fun is the one at the end where they've finally run out of household objects and bits of fruit to balance on the poor fucker's head. The heartless twats. I might have to rethink my plan

Didn't get much further with the tunnel over the weekend. Me Dad took me on three walks Saturday, yes THREE. The tight fat get, so that kind of put paid to any tunnel digging activity that day. Then Sunday afternoon they were both in the kitchen most of the day. Watching me like fucking hawks they are. Snoozed on me blanket in the lounge, or in front of the fire for the rest of the day. Had a quick look at Match of the Day, what is wrong with that Suarez bloke? He's got more screws loose than a second hand Ikea wardrobe if you ask me. The dirty, cheating, biting, racist, Uruguayan hamster-faced dickhead. Then bed, so not much digging opportunities there either. I think I might have to make it a weekdays only thing. But I'm so knackered after three walks on Saturday that I might have a day off today. Me paws are still a bit sore, and there's a nice sunny spot on the bean bag in the lounge with my name on it. I can keep an eye on the Ginger Ninja over the road from there.