Day 2. Fucking knackered I am, and not even got past the utility room wall yet. Then there's the fucking path to excavate under, then the pissing garden wall, then the bastard shed. It was all right for those twats on the telly, there was loads of them. This is just me on me Jack Jones. Me paws are fucking red raw they are. I might just have half an hour in the sun on me bean bag in the lounge, if I can make it that far, I'm feeling quite dizzy actually. Stop laughing and get to fuck, I'm dying here. I can't even be arsed to bark at the ginger kid over the road, that's how cream crackered I am. Where's me Prozac...
Is a sheepdog and his two-legged is a farmer. Frank was out with him in the tractor drilling wheat last autumn and they unearthed a rusty old lamp. So the farmer hopped out of the cab to have a closer look at it and gave it a little rub on his jacket, as you do, and was amazed to see a genie appear and offer to grant him any wish he wanted. Well the farmer thought for a moment and then said "I'd like the price of wheat to go to £200/tonne!" So the genie sighed but said "OK, I'll sort that out for you then, you greedy bastard" and popped back into his bottle. And the farmer casually tossed the lamp into the back of his cab and got on with his drilling. Well they were out again this morning putting a bit of nitrogen on, Frank and the farmer, and the farmer spotted the lamp and gave it a little rub again, just on the off chance, and you'll never guess what happened, the genie popped out again, and said that he'd grant the farmer one more wish. So the fa...