Mobile phone answer messages that say "after recording your message please hang up." Like what the feck else am I gonna do? Hang on for the rest of the day? Also the bloke who knocked on the door yesterday who was doing a survey on tea, I kid you not. Tea, like you drink from a cup, not what you eat when you get home from work. Not that I work, I'm a border terrier, but like you two-legged lot do. Apart from me Dad. He just sits on his computer playing Space Invaders all day long, the lazy bastard. Anyway this bloke knocks on the door and says "Hello sir, I'm doing a survey about tea, do you drink much tea in your house?" So me Dad gives his stock reply of "no, sorry, it's a rented property," and promptly shut the door. It's all right for you lot, this is what passes for humour round here. Pooh count: seven, almost equalling my personal best, logtastic.

Robert Preston, who does he think he is, the condescending bastard? I'd hate to be married to him: "You see darling, you're doing it all wrong, it's no wonder I'm forced to look elsewhere at King's Cross Station in the middle of the night is it?" And the music of to today, what's that all about? Lordy, Lordy. Forced to sit through the UK top 40 tonight, choroused by a backdrop of "OK this one might be crap, but the next one up is brilliant." Closely followed by "OK this one IS really crap, but the next one WILL be brilliant." Dizzy Tospot featuring Useless Git. Featuring? We never had that in our day did we? Motorhead featuring Joe Dolce? Shut uppa the ace of spades your face? Kids, who do they think they are? I'm a 2 1/2 year old Border Terrier. I remember Slade son, it doesn't get better than that sunshine. Pooh count: 6, nice one.

House in the sun home and away location in the country escape. What are those things all about? They always end up with one of these finales: a) unfortunately Debbie and Eddie's offer of 50p for Buckingham Palace was turned down. b) after having two weeks in the sun at our expense Doris and Horace decided that everything we'd shown them was crap. c) after offering the full asking price on the villa in the mountains, rabid homos Dwayne and Wayne decided to pull out first thing in the morning. d) after seventeen years of unsuccessful hunting for a four million pound ski lodge overlooking Gstaad Trisha and Tony decided to buy a caravan in Rhyl. I fart in their general direction. Pooh count: eight, but I did have some chicken madras for me supper.

Tossed and turned all night worrying about contagion in the Middle East and the rising price of sausages. Nice walk down the Nidd Gorge this morning with her. Saw a squirrel, one day I'm going to have one of those bastards. All the gang were there, Banjo, Wombat etc. Fancy calling a dog Wombat, it's no wonder he's got "issues". Banned from my X-box for a week for pissing in the kitchen again, still there's always the old Wii to fall back on. Wii, d'ya get it? I'm too good for this place, I may take up that offer of a summer season at Scarborough after all. Mind you last time I did that I had to share a dressing room with Roger D'Courcey and Nookie Bear. The abuse that bear took, it still brings tears to my eyes even to this day. Pooh count: 1 and a half (don't ask).

It was a rather chilly 1C when I took my morning stroll round the Valley Gardens this morning, I have to say that the new haircut does give me a certain sartorial eloquence that the ladies seem to find irresistible. Met Holly, a seven month old jail bait border/cairn terrier cross with curves in all the right places if you get my drift. Seven months, that's what in two-legged terms? Four. Christ, I really must get a grip. And another thing, is it just me or does Gadaffi bear a striking resemblance to ageing Middlesbrough rocker Chris Rea? The Libyan despot certainly wants wiring up to something, but I feel that the moon isn't it. Auberge . Pooh count: a bracing brace so far, although the day is yet young.

Ha Ha Ha Arsen "I didn't see it" Wenger. Well done Brum. Not that I like Brummies. I knew one once, thick as shit he was. We were in the pub once and he said to the barman "I've got it, I know who you look loike. Ceasar, that's who it is." So I said to him (he was really thick) "What was Ceasar's first name then?" He goes "ooooh, that's a good one it's on the tip of me tongue." After about ten minutes he gives up and says "nah, I can't get it, go on what was it?" So I say "Julian" and he goes "Yeah, course it was, I knew it all the time, I was only messin with yer there, I knew it was Julian, I do that to people some times, pretend I don't know stuff when I do." Pooh count: three.