Always one to bring innovation to canine blogging I've decided to introduce a weekly Turd Of The Week award. Each week someone in the media spotlight will qualify to receive one of my prized poohs via the wonders of the modern postal service. I mean it will be in a jiffy bag obviously, not just posted in the letterbox outside Costcutter. I mean you'd struggle to stick a label and a couple of first class stamps on some of them due to what you might call their "excessive moisture content". Unless someone would like to volunteer to stick a half tonne or so through their drier before harvest kicks off? No, I thought not. I wonder who is going to win this week? Andy Murray? David Cameron? Richard Branston has to be in the running. Stephen Hawking even, I mean we can't discriminate can we? Me Dad went to do a talk to a group of grain market players and big wigs once and was told to make sure that he didn't say anything that could offend. So he opened up with the line "Stephen Hawking, Mother Theresa and Michael Jackson walk into a gay bar" to looks of horror all round. "Nah, don't worry," he assured the organisers, "that couldn't happen, two of them are dead and the other one can't walk."
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.