You tasteless bastards. Firstly they've pissed me Dad off for ages now by constantly emailing him their special offers kicking off with "Hello D" as they haven't got his full fist name on their computer just his initial. Today they top the whole fucking lot by emailing him to say "D, you’d look good in a onesie!" The soft twats. He'd look like Elmer Fucking Fudd at bedtime in a onesie that's what he'd look like. The thought of it is frankly abhorrent and only serves to make me want to dig this fucking tunnel out of this shit hole for the bright lights of Brigg even faster. Woof. Meanwhile you can imagine how thrilled I was to read that Burger King are now doing home delivery. That said, you have to live in Los Angeles or Sacramento to qualify, which puts me at something of a 5,500 mile geographical disadvantage really doesn't it? My cup fucking runneth over. Not. Twats. Sausages on home delivery that's what Border Terriers want. The Dial-A-Sausage 24/7. I bet they've already got that in a big city like Brigg. I often lie in me basket dreaming of Brigg, where the streets are paved with pigs ears and there's free sausages on the griddle 24/7...
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.