Walkies on Saturday with me Dad took us past four men digging the road. Well, when I say "four men digging" I mean one man digging and three men standing around pointing. "I think we'll make Frank dig over there in a minute" I'm sure one said, and the other one goes *point* "Nah, I reckon we should make him dig over there." To which the third non-digger chips in with *point* "What's wrong with over there, that will cause maximum traffic disruption and mean that pedestrians and their dogs have to either wade through a waist-deep pile of shite, or walk on the road thereby increasing the possibility of a nasty, and if we're really lucky fatal, accident." To which they all nod sagely and say "Yes, Fred's right lets make Frank dig over there *point collectively* where it's really dangerous next." Twats. And what about all this fucking rain? Exactly how bad do things need to get for the Met Office to go up a notch from...

We appeared to be having some minor issues with design/images going missing here this morning, for a minute I thought that the bastards were censoring me due to me poor affliction, it's a fuckin curse it is to be piss bastard sure. For one minute I thought I was going to have to erase all me posts containing swear words. Or all me posts to put it another way. Turns out it was summat else entirely. Me Dad reckons that he's sorted it now anyway. A fuckin genius that bloke. Even if he is a fat, lazy, ugly get. I've never seen him so mad as he was this morning when he caught our neighbour's dog doing a shit in our back garden. So he picked it up and shoved it through their letterbox. Well, at least he got it's front legs and head in anyway. Woof.

Me Dad says that the chances of being killed in an air crash is 1 in 4,600,000, whereas being killed in a fire is a 1 in 40,000 chance. That's why he never travels by fire. That's what he reckons anyway, the fat get. Still, he did take me out for a nice long walk on Saturday, which kind of partly made up for him leaving me in the house on my own all day Sunday. Bored out of my skull I was, not to mention starving hungry as I didn't get me tea until half past seven. Christ, they'd been out that long that even the fecking log basket was starting to look tasty. Talking of which did you hear about the blind guy who got a packet of Brillo pads mixed up with a packet of shredded wheat and ate two Brillo pads for his breakfast? He's in intensive care but the doctors say that they think he'll scrape through. In other news, I see that a petition for Scotland to be granted it's independence has attracted more than a million signatures. And that's just from Englan...

Will I be the only one who finds the BBC's coverage of in this year's "Children In Need" an even more gigantic pile of absolute wank than normal this year, given recent events involving BBC employees having a history of providing children with exactly what they don't need over a period of many years?

Me Dad is stranded in fucking Peterborough after his train to Leeds has been cancelled. East Coast Bastard Trains would like to apoligise for any inconvenience caused, so that's alright. As it happens leaving you stranded in bastard Peterfuckingbastardborough when you want to be in Leeds does indeed cause quite a fucking bit of bastard inconvenience actually, you twats. Not for you of course, just for the fucking rest of us poor buggers. I vomit in your general direction East Coast Bastard Trains. You don't even qualify for a polished pooh on a plinth so a terrier shit on a stick is yours. I'll leave it in platform 4 at Peterbastardborough station for you. Arseholes.

Managed to snaffle a piece of toast with Utterly Butterly on it this morning. What a load of shite that is. And as you know I'm not a picky eater. It says on the packet that it's supposed to be spreadable straight from the fridge and packed full of the buttery taste you love. Well they score 1/2 on that front. Spreadable straight from the fridge it is, but then again so is diarrhoea (not that we keep any in our fridge you understand). The taste it's packed full of sadly also resembles the latter rather than the former too. Utterly Diarrhoealy it should be called. Shite. I'd send the makers a polished pooh on a plinth but I suspect that they may liquidise it and put it to other uses. As you may have guessed from the lack of blogging lately I've been in Stalag 45 again whilst the two-leggeds went off on holiday. It's not to bad in there in the summer I suppose, apart from the lack of wifi, but it's fuckin freezing in the winter time. Have you ever tried pissin...

Me Dad popped into the Deli in town today for a bit of shopping, leaving me tied up outside for hygiene reasons he said. Hygiene my arse, there's nothing wrong with my hygiene, I lick it clean every day whether it needs it or not. Anyway when he came back out he was shaking like a shitting dog. He'd just bought four slices of cooked beef, and was charged £10.70 for the privilege! Sweet Baby Jesus. He followed it up with a request for two slices of turkey, he probably would have asked for four but he only had fifty quid on him. Two slices of turkey set him back a further £5.70! Fuck me rigid, the turkey was even dearer than the bastard beef. "Erm, I only wanted to buy two slices of turkey, not fly to the place business class" came me Dad's witty retort. I think that must have gone over the girl's head. "I can put one back if you like?" she replied. "Put one back and I'll only have fucking one, not two won't I? And I want two. Drop yer bas...