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Bored, Bored, Bored

My God I'm bored. Last week we had all the excitement of a new bathroom being fitted with lots of building types in and out all day, dropping bits of bacon butty and feeding me chocolate hobnobs. B&Q are great at installing bathrooms, they're just a bit lax when it comes to taking away all the old shite it seems. So this week there's nothing going on apart from the odd visit from a passing gyppo to enquire if we want that radiator/those taps that are piled up at the bottom of the drive. You've got to bark at every passing gyppo though haven't you, it comes with the job. Some people say that their wedding day was the happiest moment of their lives. They're the ones who haven't seen a gypsy getting knocked down by a truck. Pooh count: not sure, I turned me back for a minute and the gyppo's must have taken them as well.

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Snow

Bloody snow, I hate the stuff. It snowed here on Saturday, which meant that my Sunday morning constitutional consisted of me running around Horseshoe Field at Conyngham bollock deep in the wretched white stuff tying to put on a display of pleasure for the two-leggeds. "Ah look at him, he loves snow," they'd say. "Look at him running and jumping around in it." Well you'd run and jump around if your bollocks were dangling in snow wouldn't you? Me poor little paws were frozen solid by the time we got back to the car. Pooh count: two, both of them "steamers" - in fact one of them was giving off so much vapour it reminded me of Drax power station, except a bit smaller and browner obviously. And it probably couldn't have powered 20,000 homes in Pontefract. A small pensioners bungalow maybe. As long as they didn't have all the lights on, and the bath running. They don't have many baths pensioners do they? One a month maybe, so the chances ...
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