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Walkies on Saturday with me Dad took us past four men digging the road. Well, when I say "four men digging" I mean one man digging and three men standing around pointing. "I think we'll make Frank dig over there in a minute" I'm sure one said, and the other one goes *point* "Nah, I reckon we should make him dig over there." To which the third non-digger chips in with *point* "What's wrong with over there, that will cause maximum traffic disruption and mean that pedestrians and their dogs have to either wade through a waist-deep pile of shite, or walk on the road thereby increasing the possibility of a nasty, and if we're really lucky fatal, accident." To which they all nod sagely and say "Yes, Fred's right lets make Frank dig over there *point collectively* where it's really dangerous next." Twats. And what about all this fucking rain? Exactly how bad do things need to get for the Met Office to go up a notch from an Amber Warning? It pissed it down here most of the day yesterday and it's still raining now. Still, on a brighter note, one of next door's cats got knocked down by a car skidding in the wet yesterday. And it was the ginger one as well, what a result. It used to shit in our garden you know. And then try and cover it up and saunter away as if it hadn't got a care in the fucking world. The dirty little bastard.

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