Me Dad was waiting in the queue at Asda the other day when the old lady in front of him was struggling to put her items through the till. So, Galahad that he is, he helped her with the bread, milk and sugar etc and asked her, "Is there anything else I can help you with?" She said "yes, could you get my purse out of my handbag please?" Me Dad said "Of course I will, is this it under you arm?" She said "No get off, that's one of my tits." That's what he reckons anyway, the fat get. Still not feeling too chipper, so pooh count is somewhere in the teens today. I gave up counting after twelve.

Housewives: When nipping out to the shops, remember to carry a stiff broom in the boot of your car. You can then use it to sweep the broken glass to the side of the road every time you have a minor accident.

Apologies for the lack of blogging this past few days, I've been as sick as, well a dog actually. Huey and Rolf are my new best buddies. Think I must have ate some cat shit by mistake, I hate cats the mercenary little buggers. If a dog kept a diary it would go something like this: Monday. Ran round the garden. Great! Chased a few cats. Great! Went for a walk. Fantastic! Played stick. Awesome! Had me tea. Brilliant! Slept on me bean bag. Chillin! What a brilliant day, can't wait for tomorrow. Whereas a cats diary would go like this (probably in a German accent): Monday, day 572 of my captivity. Amused myself by half killing a selection of small rodents and secreting them around the house. Then kept flicking them to get them to move, then catching them again. Ripped open a mouse's chest just because I can. Passed on tea, I'm not eating muck out of a tin. Shit in the corner of the lounge in the hope that it may disgust them enough to free me. Bit the heads off some baby sp...

Did you see half the old cast of AYBS on MasterChef last night? Remember Mr Rumbold? They guy that used to play him looked like he had ears made out of plasticine. In fact he looked like his real ears had fallen off some time ago, then he'd arrived at the studio only for some poor make-up girl to be given the job of cobbling him some up out of whatever was to hand, which the doddering old fool had then dropped in the middle of the road. Here they had subsequently been run over by a lorry, but with no time to remodel them they'd simply been stuck to the side of his head with some chewie. One of them was so large it could have picked up DAB radio no problems and the other looked like the cats had been at it. Rodney Bewes was on there too. The only thing that particular Likely Lad looked likely to do was croak it before he'd finished his macaroon. Mind you James Bolam doesn't look like he's got long for this world either does he? What's that absolutely shit "d...

Miracles do happen, and this one happened to my mate Frank. He was walking through the park, minding his own business and chasing squirrels and ducks as you do, when all of a sudden he tells me that he felt "a bit queer" as he calls it. "Something just came over me, from behind, with a big WHOOSH," he says. The next thing he knows he's up on the bandstand preaching love and squirrel hugging, and people are travelling from all over to see him. "David Icke is always round our house since IT happened," says Frank with a shudder. "He keeps wanting to touch me, and calls me the special one. He says he had a cold last week and that I cured it. He says there's a sign on my bottom, yes you heard a sign on my bottom that proves I am the chosen one. I can't see it myself like, well nobody can see their own arse can they? Will you have a quick shuftie and see if you can spot anything unusual?"

To save time & money Chelsea have announced that they have already sacked their next manager. Poor old AVB, he must be crying all the way to the bank this morning, there's a polished pooh on a plinth in the post to cheer you up old mate. Watching MOTD on Saturday night me Dad said "I bet he's not in a job on Monday," and so it proved. So what's gone wrong, it can't all be ABV's fault can it? He doesn't actually go onto the pitch with them does he? Too many Prima Donnas if you ask me. And the odd petulant pouting ladyboy on more money than the GDP of Portugal of course. Oh, and a racist or two. Plus the inevitable adulterer and a closet gay. Doesn't make for a harmonious dressing room that lot does it?

Dereck Chisora goes to the doctors to get a thorough check up before his next fight. A few days later the doctor rings him up and says "Dereck, I'm sorry to have to inform you that you've got sugar diabetes." Dereck replies, "Why, is he any good?" Woof.