Well, for once the tight fuckers took me with them to a cottage by the sea. Went walkies on the beach every day, fucking freezing it was. The tight bastards. They kept chucking a stick in the bastard North Sea for me to go and fetch. The North Fucking Sea. In bastard December. There were some complete wankers all dressed up in black in there already too (I think they must have been The Muslim Womens Ironing Board Formation Swimming Team or something). So I wasn't in there on me own, freeing my little bollocks off I was. No sooner had I got meself dry by the fire then they were dragging me back out again. The heartless twats. I'd have got more rest in Stalag 45, or the kennels as they call it. Got to go to the pub on Christmas Day. Fucking packed it was. Biscuits, that's all I got for me Christmas Dinner. Fucking bastard biscuits. No chance of a fucking pig in a blanket for me. No siree. Bastard dry buggering biscuits. Not even a fucking splash of gravy, nor kiss my arse. Dr