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Another Shit Weekend

Me Mum and Dad went away for the weekend, leaving me consigned to the kennels, or Stalag 45 as I prefer to call it. The selfish bastards. When they got back they proceeded to knock up a full bifters Sunday Dinner with all the trimmings, and what did I get? Stew and biscuits. No, cold stew and biscuits actually. Cold fucking stew and a few pissing biscuits, whilst they fill themselves up on roast beef, Yorkshire puddings and gravy. Northern dogs love gravy. The more gravy the better in my book. I once licked my bowl five times round the utility room just to make absolutely CERTAIN that I'd got every ounce of gravy goodness down my scrawny neck. But not this weekend. Cold bastard stew and biscuits it was for your truly. Apparently I'm on a diet. Too fat they reckon. Too fat my arse I'm in me prime, me. Then to cap off the whole sorry scenario, this morning I'm treated to a trip to the vets to get me pissing booster jab thingy. I hate going to the vets. If they aren't sticking things in your neck then there shoving them up your arse. Yes, you heard me. Up your arse. The dirty bastards. My fucking cup runneth fucking well over. Still, the weather's bucked up, so it's back to building that roof glider to fly myself out of this shit hole and off to Brigg, where the streets are paved with pigs ears and there's a packet of discarded Haribo under every park bench. I can't fucking wait. I bet there's some hot bitches in Brigg too. On heat, and gagging for a bit of Border Terrier lurve action. Bring it on...

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