What does a South Korean use to take his dog out? Oven gloves! I can't believe they eat dogs over there really, the dirty bastards, isn't it just an urban myth? Like Elvis working down the chippie, or Lord Lucan riding the winner of the 3.45 at Catterick? Or that Jeremy Corbyn was in Hawkwind and was also Father Abraham in the Smurfs? What he REALLY was in fucking Hawkwind and was Father Bastard Abraham? Are you taking the piss? Hmmmm. Gives me an idea though....Knocker, here boy, you know that new Korean restaurant in town, they're looking for a guard dog....

They've been away on holiday (yes, a-fucking-gain) and me and Knocker have been confined to Stalag 45. So there's been a distinct lack of blogging going on. (they won't let me use my iPad in Stalag 45 "for security reasons"). If that wasn't bad enough, when me Mum and Dad finally got round to coming home me Dad hit upon this brilliant new idea. To make walkies easier for him (fuck me), he's only gone and bought a length of chain about 3 feet long which attaches to the end of the flexi lead. This means that he only needs one hand to hold the lead (the lazy fucking twat). It also means that I'm permanently never more than 3 feet away from Nutjob on any walk we now go on. That's like me being in one of those prison-break movies. The sort where the nice bloke, wrongly convicted of murdering his wife (like in Shawshank) gets chained to some homicidal maniac, like Hannibal Lector or Reggie Kray. When the prison van accidentally crashes, the good guy (me)...

Went for nice walkies on the beach at Saltburn yesterday, had a great time. Apart from the town being over-run by bikers that is. What do these podgy wankers think they are? Fat, leather-clad bell-ends living in a fucking time warp, that's who they are. With their fucking wanky spotted bandanas, motorhead tee-shirts, enormous beer-bellies and fucking pathetically stupid faux viking helmets, hogging the roads, pumping out toxic exhaust fumes all over the fucking place. The roads were fucking well full of the twats out for possibly the last nice weekend of the year. Shot the fucking lot of them I say. You're not James Dean, you're a fat old twat who still lives at home with his Mum who spends half the day de-greasing a carburetor on the kitchen table and the rest in his bedroom watching porn before Mum brings him his tea on a tray. Get a fucking life, you sad bastard.

Easy, so that they'd have a team to support in Euro 2016! Woof. Well, me Mum and Dad went away again this weekend. Leaving me and Tommy Knocker in Stalag 45 for another 3-day stretch. You can't get a minutes bastard peace in that place. If they aren't taking you for a walk, they are putting you in the day run - or the gay run as I call it as there's always an Alsation or something in there that want's to hump you. It's like being in fucking Shawshank that place. It's almost a relief to get back to my "cell" with Knocker. At least he seems to have got the message that I'm no Graham Norton. Talking of whom I see that he's said he'll open his back door to let a few refugees in no problem. Give him his due, Sir Bob Geldof has said that he'll happily take a few families in as well, although with his parenting track record I'm not so sure I'd want to go there.

Dear maker of Alpen, why don't you try packaging your product in a colander? That way we can tip even more of it all over the worktop when trying to pour it into a bowl than we do already. Cunts. Me Dad went into the supermarket the other day to buy a cheap bunch of flowers. The girl behind the counter rolled her eyes and said "Come on then, what have you done?" Me Dad said "I've just killed a cyclist in the car park." These three lads are sat in the pub when a bloke walks in, a bit tipsy, orders a pint, and stands at the bar drinking it. He looks around, see the three boys and saunters over, and says "I've sucked your Mum's tits" to the one in the middle before wandering back to the bar. They all look at each other aghast. Ten minutes later he's back "I've seen your Mum's minge" he says again to the lad in the middle, before wandering back to the bar cool as you like. Ten minutes later he's back again "I'...

They scored a goal, they didn't get beat, they're off the bottom of the table and Adam Johnson's girlfriend did really well in her GCSE's last week. Woof. Reports that the guards on that train that the Moroccan punter attempted to run riot on with a Kalashnikov over the weekend locked themselves into a secure area ignoring passenger pleas for help/to let them in was outrageous, but somehow not surprising considering the nationality of the individuals involved. For sale: French army officer's WW11-issue rifle, mint condition, never been fired and only been dropped once.

Apparently the Monkees have reformed and are to fly to the UK to play a gig in Birmingham (or kiss my arse Brimingham as me Mum fondly calls it) in September. They were asked to perform in Hartlepool too, but the decided to pass on that one for obvious reasons. Woof.