I could scarcely contain my waggy excitement last night when me Dad came home with another massive parcel for yours truly from my good friends and business associates Thomas Bell, the country's leading fertiliser importers. There must be so many pig's ears in Brigg that they have to get rid of them somewhere I suppose. And I'm that dog. There's probably some sort of government subsidy available for turning surplus pig's ears into Border Terrier farts. The only problem I've got now is whether this fucking glider I'm building will actually get off the roof when it's ready. It could be more of a plunger than a glider, like those bell-ends you see on the telly going off a Southend Pier or somewhere. Some clown, dressed as a clown just for further clarification, with two pieces of brightly painted 4x2 strapped to his hat plunging straight into the water. That thing was never gonna glide any further than a tossed shite was it? He might as well have just dressed himself up as a cock with wings, a Prince Albert I think they call them. Fuck knows why. Why name a pierced cock after a pub? Anyway, this blind bloke goes to the doctors, and the doctor gives it the old "we've got some good news and some bad news" line. "Who said that?" says the blind bloke. Nah, he didn't I just made that bit up, he knew he was in the doctors 'cos he'd got his wife to take him. Anyway, shut up and listen, this blind bloke goes "Really? Please do impart said information with due expedience good doctor, for I have an appointment at the chiropodists at 12.30 and I dislike intensely being tardy." The doctor thought "fuck me, he's posh isn't he, for a blind bloke like?" but he didn't say it, he maintained his professional decorum and the degree of gravitas that was appropriate on such an occasion. The doctor says "well, there's this new operation out and we'd like to try it on you. There's a 95% chance that your eyesight will return to perfect normality. But there are possible side effects." Well, the blind bloke was obviously interested wasn't he. "What sort of side effects doctor. Do tell. I can possibly make Mrs Miggins the chiropodist wait a minute or two for once." So the doctor says "Well, there's also a 95% chance that you will lose your ability to get an erection." Aghast the poor blind boke says "Why's that doctor?" The doctor replies "Cos your wife's a right fucking munter mate." Woof.
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.