Remember the Alamo

Yesterday was a day of great excitement and great Trauma for Trotter.

Yes. Yesterday Trotter, aided by Fing, escaped into the main body of the garden, where the little treasure found a pot of terracotta maisonry paint which he promptly picked up and shook very, very vigourously, causing the lid to fly off and all the paint to come out.

By the time I got home Trotter was a lovely shade of orange and was the happiest a boy could ever be, how much fun had Trotter had?

There were orange footprints up the stairs. Orange footprints on the sofa.

There were orange footprints all over the sitting room, in my bed, all over the garden.

There were whiskery paint marks on the walls, orange paint on the cats and on Martha.

There was compost everywhere too and right in the middle of everything was an ecstatic Trotter, wagging his tail and trying to rub his little orange head against me, Martha, the furniture, a disgruntled Fing and anything else he could get his paws on.

The vet recommended that we remove the paint immediately with white spirit, but Trotter didn't like that and wriggled and wriggled so much that we had to give up the attempt.

Eventually, Martha, Shane and I had to pin him down in the bath, smother him in Fairy liquid then hose him down.

The sitting room was so slippery with wetness and paint that upon our return Shane skiddied 4 foot across the room on one leg and nearly went arse over tit onto the sofa. Luckily he maintained his balance and composure and righted himself before he fell.

And Trotter wagged his tail from the doorway.

Trotter and his Orange Feet

Wig today gone tomorrow

There is great excitement in the house as a collection of hair pieces have arrived in the post despite only one being ordered.

Fing is sitting in the kitchen window wearing a long flicky blond wig.

Tutz has attached a large red spiky hair piece on her head and is bouncing around in the bedroom like bambi on acid.

Lulu is wearing a large afro wig and is doing keep fit in the sitting room.

Giggsey girl the stupid Slug face found a beard at the bottom of the bag and has donned a brown overcoat and is pretending to be a spy in the back garden.

Fat Boy Faggot is lounging in the bathroom with a large blonde beehive wig on, buffing his nails.

And Trotter? Trotter has an assortemnt of wigs on, from every time period and every style. He is a smorgasborg of hairy delights and whiskery madness. He is pottering around the hallway like a multi faceted cousin IT and when Fing joins him, the circle is complete.

Count down to D Day

All over the south of England people wait with baited breath for drag night.

In Portsmouth Prior try's on his best turban and pretends to be Eartha Kit.

In Cuddesdon Shane can't sleep with excitement and lays in bed looking longingly at his long blond wig.

In Jerico Stuart sits on the internet chatting on Gaydar. What no one knows is that all he has on is a pair of fishnets, his wig and is drinking a campari and soda.

Damon wonders where he will get changed when he arrives from London.

In deepest Hertfordshire Lorna practises her magic tricks and thinks about her glamorous assistant.

Fing has on his new fetish gear and is parading around the bedroom admiring his reflection in a full length mirror.

Tutz is smirking to herself thinking she may win a champagne prize in her cunning outfit, yes, she is coming as Chairman Mao (or is that Chairman Miaow? She chuckles to herself before snorting some more ajax)

Lulu is coming as a cup cake, Giggsey Girl the stupid Slug Face in full combat gear. Fat Boy Faggot is a shiny centurion, and Trotter?

Well, we've got to have one surprise on the night!

Book of the Month club

This week the pets of Preachers Lane bring an assorted bag of delights to your table.

This week Fing is reading 'Peter Pan' by J.M. Barrie, Fing is of course the eternal 'Boy' and likes the thought of flying all around the place in a small green jerkin and pants.

Faggot is reading 'The Moons a Balloon', David Niven's autobiography, he admires David's stylish sophistication and debonair charm.

Tutz is reading 'Button Moon and the Singing Hotpants' by I.Allen. A must for all Kylie fans and those fond of consuming narcotics.

Lulu is reading 'The drawing of the Three' by Stephen King, because she's a bit of a dark horse like that.

Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug Face is reading 'The Golden Witchbreed' by Mary Gentle, As she is fascinated by the concept of living in a post-nuclear society where you don't develop a gender until you are 13.

As a one off special treat for member's, We have arranged for a series of 'signing' sessions with Trotter.

He will be sat by a small desk in the entrance to Waterstones and will be more than happy to nibble a corner off any paperback purchase and rip your bag out of your hands before pissing up the table and leaving.

Boredom

Trotter is bored.

Trotter is bored because it is a sunny day and all the cats are in the garden playing lacrosse.

As we are all aware, Trotter is not allowed in the garden becuase of his unsociable behaviour. He doesn't like plants, he doesn't like bags of compost, pots, garden furniture, you name it, he hates it.

So, Fing opens the back door and one by one the cats sidle past a disgruntled Trotter, Lacrosse sticks in hand, through the child gate, out into the sun trap that is the garden.

Trotter grumbles to himself while Lulu lays on the sofa eating the biggest 99 you've ever seen.

Legs 11

Shane was telling me about a terrible fright he experienced only the other night from the largest spider in the world.

'Lara', he said, 'it was terrible. I turned round and there were these great long black skinny legs,

For a moment I thought it was Naomi Campbell clambering up the wall'

Trotters Week

So far this week, Trotter has been entertaining himself by walking repeatedly around the coffee table. We have entertained ourselves by counting the rotations.

He has rubbed his head all along the length of the sofa, and briefly, for a while last night, around Stuarts legs.

He has grumbled at the cats and stood nervously in the bathroom while Faggot approached with a mouthful of bites. Trotter does hate to be bitten.

He has played with an old wine bottle. He managed to escape into the main body of the garden, but only minimal damage was caused as we managed to entice him back in with some lumps of mature chedder.

He has run up and down the stairs and has pissed all over the house, just for good measure.

And to think it's only Tuesday!

Query

Out of interest, do all Geese get fat at Christmas?

Tiffinys

Fing and I had been lying in my bed for some time discussing the Popes inconcieved (insane) comments about the Prophet Mohammed and Fings view that the Pope is an anachronism when Martha suddenly appeared on the landing as if she had just blown in like Mary Poppins.

'Martha!', I exclaimed!

'Fing would very much like a fried breakfast with bacon and eggs please'

Martha looked at us and said,

'He can knob off, i'm going gardening'.

Fing and I looked at each other and Fing said, 'well, you see how she is?'

and I had to agree.

Icon

What is wrong with the world?

Last week stupid Steve Irwin finally managed to irritate an animal so much it killed him. Some may say, clapping their hands in malicious glee, 'Serves you right you absolute tosser!', but not so the Australian nation.

In unparralled irony that completely escapes them, they have been hunting down harmless stingrays in 'revenge attacks' and mutilating their rather peculiar rubbery bodies.

Steve Irwin, irritating wanker that he was, would have been absolutely horrified.

Although he was most well known for poking crocodiles with large sticks, he was actually a passionate conservationist and would be devastated, yay, would turn in his grave, if he knew what was being done in his name.

On the flip side of the coin, fans that have not been hacking innocent animals to death have been queing for more than 25 hours for tickets to his funeral.

Only in Australia, there, the world is upside down.

Sad

There is an air of tragedy in the house.

Fing, feeling despondent, thinking of his mother and the rest of his litter, his fall from Grace as the Head Boy at Eaton, and his brief stint down the docks doing favors for ship's cats and his failure at the Trans - Atlantic Samba Competition, has hit the bottle.

See him, there, on the sofa, gin clasped in hand, sniffing, wiping a tear from a teary eye, rocking, sadly back and forth.

But what is the poor boy singing, singing softly to himself?

Lets listen!

'On nights like this
when the world's a bit amiss
and the lights go down
across the trailer park
I get down
I feel had
I feel on the verge of going mad
and then it's time to punch the clock

I put on some make-up
and turn up the tape deck
and pull the wig down on my head
suddenly I'm Miss Midwest
Midnight Checkout Queen
until I head home
and put myself to bed

I look back on where I'm from
look at the Fing that I've become
and the strangest things
seem suddenly routine
I look up from my Vermouth on the rocks
a gift-wrapped wig still in the box
of towering velveteen.'

The storm

And it rained.

It rained so hard that it woke Lulu up from her nest of comfy jackets up in Martha's room.

It rained so hard that it woke Trotter up from his warm and snug place at the bottom of Lara's bed.

It rained so hard that even Fing was disturbed from his super dulux cat cushion, with heated pillows and a teas maid, underneath the bed.

But not Tutz.

Tutz with her eyes like saucers was watching the deluge and wishing she was outside in the precipitation. She looked with longing as the big fat raindrops hit the ground so hard that they bounced a foot back up in the air. She was tranfixed by the wind blowing the raindrops so fast they almost looked like a blizzard.

Tutz imagines that she is Gene Kelly and is singing and dancing in the rain.

Roald Dahl Day

'I want to own a Chocolate Factory!!!!' barks Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west.

'I want to meet a Big Friendly Giant!!!'' says Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug Face.

'I love Matilda', purrs Fat Boy Faggot from the bath.

'I live in a Giant Peach and have outsize grubs and assorted insects for friends', says Tutz to her friend, the Spider, who lives upon the wall.

'I am a Pernicious Knid!', says Fing

'Fantastic Mr Fox? I'm CRAZY like a Fox!' shouts a spinning Trotter from the kitchen.

Well, i'm afraid I don't know about any of that, but to me, every day in Preacher's Lane is a Tale of the Unexpected.

A Night Of Unrest

It is very noisy and rowdy on Preachers Lane. Hoardes of small children are racing around the estate in a loud and formless fashion.

Fing cannot help but think that it's rather like watching an episode of monkey world as the little brats race by screaming, howling and laughing manically like gibbons on acid.

It is, infact, all too much for a boy who is trying to relax by the pond with a long island iced tea and a selection of smoked meats, olives and pickled anchovies from the delicatessen.

With a sigh, he gathers up his silk gown and assortment of sweetmeats and beats a hasty retreat into the house, only to find Martha watching a ribute to Freddie Mercury.

He decides there is no rest for the wicked ones so goes upstairs and pisses on some clean washing to make himself feel better.

Kisses for a boy

Fancy Drag 3

The pets are terribly envious of Shanes new blond wig.

Fing especially as he lost his favourite blond wig after a particularly drunken bingo session and came home with a traffic cone on his head instead.

I say, 'the pets', but must exclude Trotter, who has no interest in Wigs or hair pieces of any kind.

Working Dog of the Week

If I could ask you all to stand and raise your glass to our Working pet of the week - Rocky.



Rocky is employed by the Metropolitan Police Force and has been trained to sniff for explosives.

What to Rocky is a game, is in fact, quite the most dangerous of jobs, as of course, should he locate a suicide bomber and alert his handler, he will be one of the first people to be blown up.

So, lets raise our glasses to all the dogs who put themselves into danger in order to keep human beings safe and well.

Rocky!

Scratchy Pole

Tutz loves her scratchy pole.

More than Snoop Doggy Dog, more than Terror Squad and more than Lil' Kim.

But then, she is clearly as mad as they day is long.

Guest Pet of the Week

Patch

Likes: Bouncing, floating on lilo's, Bacon and Egg McMuffins and sticking his head in the pond and blowing bubbles.

Dislikes: The Postman and being left to his own devices.

Distinguishing Features: Like, DUR! His PATCH!

Aspirations: Wants to become a life guard and work at Hinksey Pool

Rock a bye baby

Poor Captain Jack.

When you have spent half your life sleeping in hammocks, armchairs can be surprising difficult to master.

Love and Hate

Yesterday a diver who had been involved in a boating accident and had been missing for 3 days , was found floating in the open ocean, unconscious, by a couple on a yacht.

The couple on the yacht had been watching a pod of dolphins when they noticed something unusual floating in their midst.

It would appear that the dolphins had kept the unconscious diver afloat, with his head above water, for 3 days.

In some parts of the world people eat dolphins.

Lets hope the next time they do they choke on it.

http://www.wdcs.org

The Japanese Government is trying to have the international ban on hunting whales lifted. To do so they are giving millions in international aid to landlocked African countries so that these countries will support them at the International Whaling Commission.

Should landlocked countries with no fishing fleet be allowed to vote?

The Japanese Government suppressed an independent scientific study (bearing in mind that every year the Japanese kill whales for 'scientific purposes' - with the whale meat ending up in restaurants across the country) that had discovered that eating whale meat was infact very bad for you. All aquatic life suffers more from pollution than land based animals because they are wet and their skins more porous, this means that the level of Mercury in Whalemeat is several times the recommended allowance for humans.

Hey! Lets hope if they eat enough the nasty little fuckers will all drop dead from poisoning and then the rest of us will have less to worry about.

Fancy Drag 2

There has been great consternation in the ranks due to the Fancy Drag night at the Brewery Gate.

Tutz just can't decide what to go as.

She was in a second hand clothes store earlier but was swamped by the men's suits.

Meanwhile, at the house, Fing sashays round the house in his brand new swash buckling Pirate Outfit and Trotter is confused in a Tutu.

Our Family

Last night I stood in a foul mood cooking ratatoiue.

Trotter was spinning next to me, knocking into my legs and occasionally falling over with the dizziness.

Lulu was barking in an irritating manner from just outside the kitchen, spasmodically, and at different pitches.

Fing was sat on the top miaowing as if the world was about to end, head thrown back at the top of his voice, for no fucking reason what so ever. The bowls of food were freshly filled, nice new crunchy biscuits, but no, the shithead was not to be appeased.

I have no fags so I call up Martha who is at Varnes, watching Gruey cut Carleens hair and plead for a cigarette.

I'll pop one down' she says.

So there she is, in silhouette against the door. Now Trotter and Lulu are barking in the hall, with a pissed off Fing, distracted from his wailing, weaving in and out of everyone's feet like a great white out of water.

Martha, in her wisdom, shouts 'IN THE LETTERBOX' through the glass.

So I bend over just in time for Trotter to leap at the door, hitting me on the chin, making me scream at the top of my voice,

'FFFOOORRRRRR FFUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKKKSSSSS SSSSSAAAAAAKKKKKEEEEEE!

Martha said she was ever so embarrassed outside as some passing strangers stopped and peered at the house.

He may well have been just a saggy old cloth cat.

But Emily loved him.

Fancy Drag

What are you going as?