A the two-leggeds sat down to tea last night, with your truly helpfully hanging around to tidy up anything that may accidentally fall onto the floor, the conversation turned to the news of the day. "So, Maggie Thatcher's dead then," says me Dad. "Yeah, I quite liked her actually," says me Mum. "Was she a singer?" enquires the lad, I can never remember his name, Tidy Your Room I think it might be. Or Get Off That Sodding Xbox. It's one of those. Still, David Cameron has just sent his official letter of condolence to the Thatcher residence. It starts, "I regret to inform you that due to recent events, you now have too many bedrooms..."
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...