Raindrops

Oh Goodness, Trotter loves the rain.

He loves the cold and the damp and the feel of the raindrops as they splash on his little upturned furry face.

He loves to try and catch the raindrops and grumbles to himself as he splashes through puddles.

If it is a monsoon type deluge the excitement is too much and he barks and barks and gibbers and leaps at the rain, jaws working in overtime snapping away.

He likes to push his way through bushes to make himself more wet, he likes to bark at the ducks because he envys their watery riverside homes.

He does not care that everyone else does not like the rain, he says 'Fie!', to them all as he feels the rain hit his back and his paws splash through the wetness of the day.

Chubster

Tutz has been experiencing problems eating since the new kitchen refurbishment and its prolonged disasters, and so I have taken to feeding her in the safety of the bedroom, as near to the scratchy pole as possible.

(I originally put the bowl of food on top of the dresser, forgetting abvout Fing and his scrapy paw problem, and returned home to find the entire lot mulched into the trouser drawer, and my jeans all crusty with cat food)

So, As you are aware, Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west, has been suffering from an upset stomach. Not only this she has been off her food, yet mysteriously getting larger and larger and larger. We couldnt work out why.

How thick were we?

I went upstairs 2 days ago to find Lulus horrible little fat body, forced underneath the bed, consuming Tutz's dinner! All I could see were her little black paws, rather similar to the wicked witches feet after shes been cruched by the house.

I tried to remove her and had my right foot savaged as a thank you.

We are having to lock her into the sitting room as she has become so fat that if she trys to scratch her ear she rolls over backwards and struggles to get back up again.

Trotter's new thing

A lot has transpired since my last missive.

Trotter has taken to humping things.

He likes to hump his bowl, and he likes to hump my shoes. He is particulalrly fond of humping the throws because they are quiye large and it gives him something to mount.

Martha says that he is a dirty dog and tells him to stop, but I let him carry himself on, because at least when he is humping he's not barking.

Salutations!!!!!

It has been a long time Dear Hearts!

A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since our last entry - this is not even figuratively speaking! Oxford has been consumed by floods, luckily the residents of Preachers Lane were not affected by the rising waters of the Thames, apart from poor Trotter who drank some flood water in a puddle and ended up with a very upset tummy indeed.

Trotter was even more upset by his visit to the vets, even though it was Cameron Forbes who examined him. Mr Forbes, (otherwise know as Mr Cambell Gore) loves Trotter and is always upset by Trotters fevered reaction to him.

This time was no exception, as Trotter leapt like a bucking bronco on the examination table, leaving me and Mr Forbes covered in hair, although thankfully none of Trotters skanky dreadlocks snapped off because it would have been awful if we had found ourselves wearing them like moustaches.

Mr Forbes could find nothing apparently wrong with our boy but erred on the side of caution and gave him antibiotics, just in case. We have been feeding these to our boy disguised in cheese to take the edge off them.

Lulu was poorley the week before that, although it was not flood water that caused the damage. Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west was infact so poorly that she was pushing her food bowl away with her nose and staring at you in an accusatory fashion for daring to bring it near her when she was so ill. As a result the chubster has lost quite a considerable amount of weight and now has a waist, if you look at her in a good light and at the right angle.

Explain

A quick note to apologise for the lack of input recently, I have left my job and dropped my laptop on the floor, so do not have internet access anywhere.

As soon as I do, tales regarding your favourite pets in the whole wide world with recommence!

*buy Vanity Fair this month, theres a fabulous section on really expensive jewellery.

Medicine

It is a well known fact that the Chinese use animal parts in their traditional medicine.

It is not a well know fact that Crocodiles use human parts for their traditional medicines.

This human hand will help the Crocodile combat gout and scrofula, give him energy, a sense of enormous well being and will make him more virile.



*please do not try this at home. Cannibalism is illegal, and you need a wild animal license for crocodiles.

Kanga who?

It is a well known fact that Kangaroo's are professional boxers and live in Australia.

They can bounce very well, give birth to microscopic grubs and have a penchant for packed lunches.

It is not a well known fact that some Kangaroo's have to live in detention centres, like this one, on tiny Islands of the Coast of Australia.

These are the Kangaroo's who have been found convicted of drink driving, refusing to call women 'Sheila' whilst insinuating everyone else is a flaming Galah, and for throwing too many shrimp on the barby.

It is in these hostile and unwelcoming detention centre's that they are weaned off their fosters addiction, taught the correct use of colloquialisms and how to drive safely while under the influence of barbeque food.

Run's

Trotter loves the new kitchen, as it gives him extra space in which to race up and down in a pointless happy fashion, especially when he has had one of his poo's upstairs, as it gives him a bit more of a run up to the coffee table.

Hi Honey, I'm Home!

Its been a long time my friends, much has happened in between times.


My last entry concerned Marthas confusion and my concussion, thankfully I am over the concussion which left me house bound for a week. Unfortunately Martha is still very confused.

I have been to Blackpool Pride.

Fing has been to the Pan-Pacific dance competition in Australia where he made the heats but was shimmied out of the competition by a Brazilian with liquid hips, a mullet and a lovely waxed moustache. Fing watched from the side lines and decided next year would be his year and wondered where to get wax for moustaches.

Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug Face and Tutz entered the Cheese Rolling competition at Coopers Hill in Gloustershire. having four legs they had the advantage over all the stupid bipeds who cartwheeled their way to the bottom of the hill.

Lulu has been flying her kite. Know that there is a gate in the back garden she has found it easier to get to the Green Hill and stand on top to watch the beautiful kite flutter in the wind.

Fat Boy Faggot has been writing to his pen pals, drinking champagne and leading his usual life of idolatry and hedonism.

And Trotter? Trotter has been alternating between exceptionally good and exceptionally bad, almost as if his brain is trying to make a decision, finally, which way to go. He has been exceptionally good as Ali and Fly ripped out the kitchen and installed all the new units, he laid on the sofa and didn't bark or moan.

However, the price for all this goodness all day long is a build up of badness that hasn't had time to escape in the day.

Trotter has escaped 3 times, the first was on Friday when I was wearing a dress and high heels that hadn't been designed for chasing small shabby dogs around council estates. The following 2 occasions were on Saturday and caused such mayhem around the estate that a new child gate was purchased and firmly fixed to the wall.

Trotter is barking more in the mornings, almost as a prelude to his goodness throughout the day. Now that the house is open plan the sound reverberates around the house like machine gun fire and is very distressing at ten to 7 in the morning.

Trotter has taking to Shoe-mining in my bedroom and a large collection of my shoes are in the potpourri as a safety measure.

Because Trotter is being so completely naughty at night he sleeps like a little angel, and when I get up in the morning he is so fast asleep that the little bugger doesn't even wake up until I have returned from the bath. He lifts his little whiskery head and stretches his wretched little body and looks so cute with his sleepy face that you remember why its all worth while.

Ouchy

It has been a trying week.

First of all I get a verbal warning for not reaching my core responsibilities, then to add insult to injury, Ashley, Kelly and Myself end up in some ridiculous brawl and end up all covered in cuts and bruises.

It wasn't till yesterday that I discovered that I have concussion and am, under no circumstances, allowed on any rollercoasters.

The pets have been absolute angels and have rallied round to help.

Lulu has acted as a hot water bottle and has kept me warm and snug. Trotter has moderated his barking so the reverberations do not rattle around my head like shotgun fire. Giggsey Girl the stupid Slug Face has taken to making vast quantities of tea and Fing has been answering the door and replying to the post. Fat Boy Faggot has been doing the cleaning.

Unfortunately, Martha has some new high blood pressure tablets, one of the side effects of which are confusion.

I'm concussed, Marthas confused.

Can you find it in your hearts to pray for us?

One day in May

THE WEEKEND IS HERE!

Trotters and Fing are planning a trip to the coast in Fings Ferrari, now that the new dog ramp that supports canines of up to 20 stone has arrived, the world is their oyster. Fing has purchased a lovely picnic hamper and has filled it full with all of their favourite things.

There is mineral water or Lauren Perrier to drink. There is cubed cheese and sliced chicken to eat. There is Old Cat Iams and Young Adventurous Dog Iams to suck on during the journey down. As a treat for the beach there is is caviar with pickled eggs and a packet of Revels for dessert.

Trotter and Fing know how to live in style.

Meanwhile, Tutz will be cleaning her scratchy pole whilst listening to Amy Winehouse.

Martha will be pottering around in her own world of madness.

Varne will go to bed hoping that she is not woken up by men in drag in the early hours of the morning.

Lulu is posing in front of the mirror upstairs as she has just got back from the poodle parlour and has such a lovely new haircut that she is transfixed by the sight of her shapely little figure in the mirror. The excess hair made her look 3 stone heavier she decides.

Fat Boy Faggot is preparing for a trip to the Vauxhall Tavern and a brief sojourn in Chariots, perhaps, if the fancy takes him.

And Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug face? She hasn't decided what she wants to do this weekend, and may purchase a bottle of Silver Merrydown, just for old times sake.

Little Warrior

George 1999 - 2007


As you are aware, last week, George, a Jack Russell from New Zealand selflessly gave up his own life to save the lives of 5 children he had been playing with.

The SPCK has postumously awarded the little fellow a bravery medal, and US Vietnam veteran Jerrell Hudman was so moved by the story he decided to forward his own Purple Heart to honour the little dogs bravery.

The SPCA medal is usually awarded to people for their bravery in defending animals.

"George was a very brave little dog who almost certainly prevented severe injury, if not death, to at least one of the children,'' SPCA chief executive Robyn Kippenberger said.

"It's truly tragic that he paid with his own life for his instinctive act of courage.''

Hudman, 58, of Austin, Texas was a US Marine for 30 years and said he decided to send his Purple Heart to George's owner Alan Gay after reading the news on the Internet because the dog was "a little warrior''.

The Purple Heart is awarded to those killed or injured fighting for the US military.

'He saved my life'

*Thanks to the Daily Telegraph for pictures

Once upon a Madness

I suppose you all wonder how the Fancy Dress Party went?

Its not easy though, is it?

We got ready at Mine, Fillipa a vision in pink satin and Gru looking like a crack-whore in turquoise. We left mine to be subject to a flurry of homophobic abuse from some neanderthal teenagers with a combined IQ of a peanut, who then proceeded to follow us round to the pub in a threatening manner.

Luckily, have high heels can travel, even in a slightly lopsy manner, and we teetered all the way to the pub without mishap.

It was the usual sort of Fancy Dress Party, with Fillipa pulling up her satin tights in the middle of the pub without a shred of decorum, while Gru sat there with his legs wide open like a Labourer in the wrong place at the wrong time, and in a dress by accident.

We all got drunk and then a large group of us weaved our way to the Coven.

It was shortly afterwards that 2 drunks arrived at the pub and tried to make off with the charity money on the door.

Thankfully Robin Hood and Maid Marion and an assortment of dwarves were there to pin one to the ground, while Tweedle Dum, Puss in Boots, Prince Charming, Hermes, Alice and Wonderland, The Queen of Hearts and the White Rabbit stood round and watched. One of the thieves escaped over the balcony in the style of Spiderman, he obviously didn't realise that the Super hero's party is in June.

Tranmission Vamp

I hae to apologise for the lack of tranmission. I have been subject to a brutal and completely unnecessary disciplinary at work at the hands of my evil and twisted manager, and have spent days formulating my defence.

Full story and pics later.

Once Upon a Time

The day has arrived.

I have been out and purchased a new basket to go with my lovely red velvet cloak.

Gruey was so overcome with excitement at the thought of going out in drag that he couldn't stop himself from bouncing up and down on the bed, despite poor Wayne trying to have a lie in.

I have to go to Primark for pink tights to go with Filipa's fuschia silk dress, and boots for glitter spray for our hair.

Ezra has been out to the shops and purchased an outfit, but refuses to divulge its kind.

Full story and pics later!

Hero

I read a story earlier that bought a lump to my throat, and which had already reduced Lulu to tears.

This week in New Zealand a tiny dog faced huge odds to protect 5 children that were not even his own.

George, a tiny jack Russel, met some of his neighbours children on the way home from the sweet shop and was playing with them when suddenly, 2 pit bull terriers rounded the corner.

The pit bulls were out for blood, and barking and snarling ran towards the children

George knew what he had to do.

At under a foot high and with a heart condition, the tiny dog, with that damaged heart that was still bigger than a lion's, raced towards the pit bulls. He ran at them and charged in with his small compact terrier body.

So, of course, the pit bulls turned their attention to the wonderful, heroic little creature, and the children ran away to safety.

George was still alive when they found him, but had been so badly mauled that he could not be repaired, and was put to sleep.

I don't know if dog's go to heaven, but if they do George will be sat on a golden cushion, where he will never want for anything, ever again. He will never again feel the wind on his back, or the sun on his face, but one day he will be reunited with the children whose lives he saved, and with everyone who ever loved him.

Rest in peace wee man.

If

In the 1940's there were only 40 Siberian Tigers left in the wild.

With a hunting ban put in place and help from conservation societies, within 60 years the population has risen to 600.

If we put our minds to it we could still have orangutans in 20 years time, we could save the mountain gorrillas from the mists, we could stop global warming so that polar bears and penguins had lovely freezing places to be.

If we really wanted to, we could.

Wings of a duck

The Street Ducks had learnt their lesson from yesterdays madness and had roosted high on the embankment where Truly Scrumptious Lulu's fat little body couldn't get them.

This one watched me with a beady duck eye while his friends practised their line dancing routines.

Dawn of the Duck

This morning, on our walk, Truly Scumptious Lulu, Trotter and Myself were approached by some street ducks.

The Street Ducks were all sitting in the shade of the cherry trees by the bank and were all quacking softly to themselves in the shade as a light mist rose off the river into the hazy morning sunshine.

Lulu was sniffing the grass and Trotters was just standing there so I stood to take the air and the pretty view, when all of a sudden a little brown female made a bee line for us, presuming we had food.

We all stood there for a moment, when all of a sudden and with no warning, Lulu slipped her lead and ran amongst the sleeping ducks and scattered them to the four winds, while Trotters barked and tugged on his lead.

Everytime I got near her she would suddenly hair off in a different direction, until all the street ducks had taken to the tree's and I was bright red in the face.

I am of the firm opinion that you should always let sleeping ducks lie but all Lulu can see is crispy fried duck in a lovely pancake with hoisin sauce. If you are Duck Boy however you can only find ducks on the continent.

May Day

Once again it is glorious May Morning, when those with very little common sense like to toss themselves off Magdelen Bridge into the shallow waters of the river in order to break limbs and maim themselves.

This customary tossing is watched by a crowd of bloodthirsty maniacs who like to encourage the tossers by cheering in an exuberant fashion hoping to catch sight of a broken ankle, bloodied nose or fractured skull when the tossers are ferried back up the bank up by emergency services.

This year then, both the tossers and the braying mob would have been sorely disappointed as the police closed off the bridge and refused to join in with the May Day festivities.

Common sense prevailed and the crowd, looking for blood and carrying a Wickerman, burning brands, and an assortment of pitchforks, went on a witch hunt instead.

Meanwhile, normal people danced around hitting each other over the heads with inflated pigs bladders on sticks, bells round their toes and waving hankies in the air. Other normal people could be seen dressed as tree's, or with large horns attached to their head, and many more wore large hats covered in spring flowers.

Thankfully there was a large proportion of the extremely drunk who evened out the odds a little, and a good time was had by all.

What becomes of the totally wankered?

The weekend passed in a drunken haze.

Milly Pav arrived at 1 and everything disintegrated shortly after.

We sat in the Brewery Gate and drank like prohibition was going to be enforced around mid afternoon.

We drank pints and shooters for some time before deciding that we should go home and compose ourselves.

Trotter was very pleased to see us, inebriated as we were, and started to leap around the table and bark at the chair. Lulu eyed us a bit nervously from the sofa and growled, just in case we needed warning (It wasn't until a drunk Mr Cod arrived much later that her full wrath was unleashed. The 'full wrath' package has resulted in Lulu biting through Mr Cod's nose before now. This is not bad for a small dog with only one tooth)

We ordered pizza as we were ravenous. It arrived with the customary Garlic and Herb dip which proved difficult to open, so Milan took the bull by the horns and tried to open it with his teeth resulting in the pot spilling down his top. It looked like a seagull had perhaps evacuated its bowels on the unfortunate Pav. Not fazed by the dip Milan took off the soiled garment and proceeded to dance around the sitting room topless in the style of a disabled, drunken, pole dancer on acid. This lurid and erratic dancing was warmly received by the cats who always appreciate any kind of floor show, but not so by Marth, who had escaped into the garden to get away from it all.

Milan, never one for niceties, decided that he would go and dance outside in the garden and proceeded to cavort madly around the fishpond. In the distance I heard some one shout 'Put a shirt on you daft cunt!', but Milan was too far gone to care.

It wasn't until I'd had a bath and tried on a few outfits and several pairs of shoes, and was trying to apply makeup with an errant, drunk hand, and had eyeliner everywhere but my eyes and mascara in my hair that Milan looked at me and slurred, 'La. Do you think we might be too drunk to go back out again?'. As I couldn't actually stand up I decided that Mil had a point and so decided to stay in.

Milan, however, got a phone call and went to the Jolly, and god alone knows what happened from there.

If

It is Friday, once again, and nothing much of note has happened on Preachers lane.

Thelma is so excited about the sunny weather we have had of late that she has taken to dancing on the pavement outside her house in a wildly erractic manner, accosting people as they pass to share her sunny love. This has resulted in most of the neighbours peering anxioulsy from behind their curtains to see if she is there before they rush out to do a bit of shopping.

The new familiy has moved in next door and have made their presence known by swearing, loudly and repeatedly, at each other. This is the adults of course, the children have made their presence known by screaming and running amok in the garden, upsetting Martha by throwing balls into the pond and just being generally obnoxious.

We have yet to see how they will tackle with Trotter and Fing and their escapades, will they appreciate Trotters barking and dislike of potted plants? Will they come to understand Fing and his horrid haughty nature, and the fact that given an inch, he can piss a mile?

Will they mind if Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face pops over the fence to have a poo in their flowerbed, as she did that one time when the Sumo family lived next door. (It might not have been so bad but it was a hot summers day and they were all sitting outside having a barbi as she decided to evacuate her bowels in their petunia's. I had to clamber over the fence with a bit of kitchen roll in hand apologising, 'i'm so terribly sorry' I said as they sat there aghast, chicken legs in hands)

Will they mind when Lulu flys her kite, or Fat Boy Faggot comes home late at night from a Sauna, in through the back door, if you will. Will they be irritated by the madness of Tutz and her intense yellow eyes as she peers at them from the upstairs window making her strange 'PPPrrrooooTTTt'ing noises in a demented fashion?

All this remains to be seen.

Trotwear and Fing

I finally told Little about his cap on Tuesday.

I admitted that Trotter had redesigned the beloved cap into something rather unmanageable and unwearable (trotwear does not have to make sense)

I grovelled by text as I knew how much the cap meant to Little, to tell him that I was truly sorry, that I had put the cap up high, in safety, and could only presume that one of the cats must of been having a bad day, found the cap and tossed it to the floor in irritation.

And so I apologised until Little called down and said that perhaps he should not have left his most favourite item of clothing of all time at my house where it was at risk. Perhaps he should have come to pick it up. All things told, he said, he could always buy another.

And so I said sorry, once again, and went to bed.

I awoke the next morning to find a pile of my favourite boots where they should not have been. All out of their boxes in a mangled heap by the bookshelf. At first I thought that they may have fallen from the side, but as I drew near, the awful truth emerged.

Fing had pissed on my boots.

In the pile were the most expensive pair of boots I have ever purchased, the second most expensive, and the most comfortable pair I have ever owned. I raced to the pile of boots and started to sniff them experimentally in abject horror. Please don't let it be the £200 Diesels I whispered to myself as I sniffed then from top to bottom. Then the Fly's, which also seemed to have been spared, until I reached my comfy, lovely, brown suede boots, that didn't need to be sniffed as the pee was still dripping off them as I picked them up.

Thank heaven for small mercy's I thought and put them in the washing machine in an experimental attempt to save them from the bin. You can, after all, pop your trainers in there if Fings had a go at them, so what difference suede I wondered?

Well, they are kind of firmer, and less soft than they once were, but I think they are still wearable, just. At least they don't smell of cat pee, and Fing has not won, not this day.

The Noisy Dogs Home

Trotter is stood underneath the stairs, peeping out occaisionally at the front door.

He is hiding because Fing has told him that the Noisy Dog Inspector is on Preachers Lane.

The Noisy Dog Inspector, he has told Trotter, waits patiently, listening, until he can hear a noisy dog, and then he comes and swoops you away to a dogs home in the middle of Dartmoor where you are forced to live in a small sound proof box.

In the Noisy Dogs home, no one can hear you bark.

Trotter, all in all, enjoys the sound of his own bark, and does not wish to be in a sound proof box miles away from home, so is prudently saving his barks for later, when Martha and Lara will be at home to plead his case should the inspector arrive after dark. What hope has one small shabby dog got on his own against a man with a large net he thinks as he stands there, occaisionally peeking round the corner at the front door.

'woof' he says very quietly, to himself, in a moment of defiance, 'woof'.

Tutz

Tutz hates it when you take photos all close up because it makes here eyes go all peculiar.

The Pidgeon

This is the pidgeon that was rescued from the Chimney at the Brewery Gate last week.

We apologise for the delay in posting the photo.

Weekend

It was a quiet weekend. No one had hangovers, no one was hanging out their arses. Martha went gardening, I tidied up the cupboard under the sink, which in itself was no mean feat, as it has its own bizarre half life and inhabitants.

I scrubbed and polished, boxed up jam jars that had lids and recycled those that didn't. I bleached and disenfected where disenfecting was due.

Not only this but I shopped. I bought food for the week, and food for the pets, I bought cream for my face and cheap jewellery in the Asian shop that is in a perpetual state of 'closing down'.

Filipa was working at the Gate along with a new, strange, drag queen, who was walking like John Wayne in his high heels.

So, a quiet weekend all told.

Death by Ice

We at Trotterandfing hear that there are hundreds of boats containing seal hunters trapped in pack ice off the coast of Canada, where they have become trapped after killing thousands of baby seals for this years quota.

The coastguard is desperately trying to reach them as they are running out of fuel and food.

Perhaps it would be more merciful to club them round the back of the head until they are dead than let them freeze or starve to death?

Birds of a feather

Yesterday Lulu rescued a pigeon from the flu, and this morning I was attacked by a street duck.

On Sunday I was working at the gate when we heard a frantic screechy and scrabbly noise coming from the chimney flue. We edged over there nervously and I started to open the door when Lulu said 'But what if its a rat?', at which point we both backed off and got a man from the beer garden to tackle it instead.

We called up pest control who told us it would be a pigeon, probably a baby one, that had fallen down the chimney by accident. Unfortunately, pest control were dead busy and couldn't come round, so yesterday Lulu and Alex dismantled the fire, sawed off the bottom of the chimney and rescued the stupid pigeon who promptly flew off to sit back on top of the chimney.

This morning I was walking across the car park when an agitated woman clutching her bag to her chest raced past me, 'Quick', she cried, 'It might get us!'

I turned to see an irate street duck hurtling across the Duke of York car park with ill intent in its small beady duck eyes, so I too turned and ran. It chased us across the road and nearly all the way to the Castle, before hissing and walking into a bush. Me and the woman paused for breath, and agreed how unusual that it was to be chased by a duck at half 7, then went our separate ways.

It was as I walked down Rapists Alley that i heard a rustle and a 'quack, quack, quack' from the wall above me. I looked up only to find a street duck had made her nest on top of a brick wall, all covered in Ivy and was watching me with her beady duck eye through the foliage.

What hope is there for the birds of Oxford?

(I apologise for the lack of photo's. Lulu is sending me a picture of the pigeon but I didn't dare stop to take a picture of the angry duck in case she pecked my nose off and the nesting, insane, Ivy duck, was too high up to be photographed)

Duckling Doom

In a harsh and unfriendly world, baby street ducks forage for scraps in a college quod.

Denied an aquatic life, some of them will develop callouses on their delicate webbed feet, some will be forced into a life of petty crime, others will turn to drugs and drink and some may become Big Issue vendors.

It doesn't have to be like this.

Petition the governemnt not to fill Radley Lakes with choking ash from Didcot Power Station, leave the lakes there for all forms of aquatic life, for the swans and the geese, the frogs and the toads, water rats and newts. For Herons, and fish, and most of all, for Street Ducks.

Ducks need water like we need air.

The place the world forgot

It is a lovely spring day. The children on the estate are entertaining themselves with a spot of random vandalising, as is their wont, while the pets find other things to occupy their time.

Fing is outside washing his beloved Ferrari, he is talking to Swetty Netty, who is hanging over her fence watching the vandalising children in the middle distance. They are discussing the time when children had been bought up to be seen and not heard, not let loose upon the world as mindless hooligans with wanton destruction on their minds, well, unless you were the son of a football hooligan, then wanton destruction was probably the only thing on your mind.

So Netty chats as Fing lovingly buffs his beautiful shiny car.

Meanwhile, on the basket ball court, Tutz is hanging out and chatting to the kids as they leap around pretending to be in South Central LA. Tutz cannot determine if she would like to be a blood or a cripple, as neither option seems entirely attractive. She hopes she will not have to kill anyone to be forced to join a gang as she fears she may shoot herself be accident. And so she sits in the sun on top of the railings and watches as the boys leap around with their balls.

Trotter and Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug face are in the front garden, where there are no potted plants to instigate Trotters appetite for destruction. They are customising a shopping trolley into a go kart with go faster stripes, a comfy covered seating area, with a roof top restaurant. They can be seen having a tug of war with a tape measure and squabbling over switches of material for the seats. All they have managed to achieve so far is the go faster stripes, and that is only because Trotter found the tin of paint by accident and shook it in a frenzy, shaking red paint all over the trolley and only narrowly avoiding the Giggs, who leapt out of the way like a gazelle into the relative safety of next doors dustbin.

Truly Scrumptious Lulu and Fat Boy Faggot are in the garden sunning themselves. They are drinking white wine and discussing Jordan's pregnancy whilst watching the children through the fence. The vandalising children are currently dismantling a brick wall and throwing the bricks at each other, Fag and Lulu watch them and agree that in an ideal world an accident would happen, its not like any one would really miss the children, is it?

Fat Boy Faggot can remember when the sumo child from next door got hit in the face with a cricket bat, and how we all laughed quietly from behind the curtains. Lulu reminisces about the time that the mad woman upstairs had lost it and was throwing potatoes at the children, then started throwing over her furniture as well until 6 policemen had wrestled her into a riot van.

'Mind you' says Faggy, 'we haven't had a good Jumper for a while have we?', they discuss the last time someone had threatened to throw themselves off the bridge and how everyone got out blankets and sat on the rivers edge having picnics watching the police trying to encourage him back to the relative safety of the housing estate. 'How we loved to shout 'JUMP!' occasionally, just for a laugh' they smile to themselves and laugh, as a large brick sails through the air on the other side of the fence, landing with a thud in Thelma's garden.

The sun is out, spring is in the air.

Preachers Lane, enter at own risk.

White cats don't wear plaid.

'Fing?', asks Trotter, 'Did you see in the paper yesterday about the white cat in Wolverhampton that, over the course of the last 3 months, has started getting on the bus and travelling 2 stops before getting off at the fish and chip shop?'

Fing looks up from his broderie anglais and sniffs, disdainfully.

'public transport?', he spits, 'only low life scum use public transport', he then gets up, pulls on his leather driving gloves and goes for a spin in his ferrari, just to prove a point.

Our Sympathy to

Street Ducks have returned to the Streets of Oxford.

This lonely fellow was photographed outside my house on his way to Sainsbury's for a pint of milk.

He stopped for a moment and told me that he had lost everything, his wife had run off with a river duck with a lovely mooring down on the canal, his ducklings scorn him as he has forgotten how to swim, and the board of Duck Affairs have revoked his right to quack near open waterways.

With this he sighed and waddled off, and I could any watch with a tear in my eye.

Street Ducks. Can you help poultry near you?

Contact Rights for Homeless Ducks with Sore Feet at this address, if you can offer a Duck a pond to live in, or a bird bath to rest his weary bones in. (Ducks can live in swimming pools as long as you haven't chlorinated the water)

Together, we shall overcome!

Where we have been.

SALUTATIONS FROM TROTTERANDFING!!!!!!

Regular readers will have noticed a lack of transmission, due to me being at home last week and my server being down, for this we can only apologise.

In the past week........

Trotter was calm for a very brief and lovely moment and was very sleepy and a touch confused.



Fat Boy Faggot, who hates the new bath and will not sleep in it, has taken to sitting in random places in the house, to see if he can get a feel for another room in the house. As you can see, he doesn't find the kitchen side particularly comfortable.



Tutz has been practising trying to pop her eyes out her head, without any success thankfully.


Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug face has hired a team of professional polishers to buff her up on a daily basis.


Lulu practised smiling and being happy, which lasted around 3 minutes before Trotter jumped on the sofa, so she bit his ankle.



And Boy? My Boy Fing? After dragging some clothes into a pile and peeing on them, inadvertently peeing all over my favourite white suede Reebok's, and black Diesel trainers, after sitting on the side and pushing a pint of water into the open drawer and soaking all my tee-shirts, after jumping into the airing cupboard, tipping all the clean towels onto the floor so that Trotter could pee on them, after opening the cupboard door and getting the dog iams out of the cupboard so that Lulu ate the entire bag and was sick, after opening the back door and letting Trotter out into the garden, after all these things, he slept as sound as a baby with no hint of remorse.

Boy.

Birthday Girl

'Happy Birthday!!!' shout the pets at Martha who until that point had been sound asleep in bed. A tousled head emerges from the duvet, Its Marth! Shes awake and its her birthday! Hurrah!

The pets have made a cup of tea, toast, a cake and kedgeree, just incase of emergency. They sit expectantly and watch the sleepy marth, who whispers 'just 5 more minutes' and promptly falls asleep again.

Trotter is ver dissapointed, he wanted Marth to wake up and open the card that he made for her, so he stands very close to the edge of the bed and barks loudly and unexpectedly into Marthas ear, this makes Martha sit bolt upright in bed like a startled Billy Idol, and unfortunately spills the tea all over Tutz, who 'ppprrooTTTTS'in an indignant manner.

Martha opens her cards, eats a small piece of toast, but wrinkles her nose at the gently steaming kedgeree in open defiance, so the cats eat it instead.

Later in the day the pets will be preparing a feast for Martha, and Varne, Mrs Warboise, Fly and Steve are coming round for a cup of tea, a slice of cake and large volumes of alcoholic beverages. And probably some duck spring rolls I would imagine.

Show

Today in Preachers Lane, the Pets are having an amateur talent contest.

Trotters is tap dancing as we speak, tip tappying his way round the room as the other pets watch from the sofa's.

Fing has bored everyone to tears with his 'I Claudius' rendition, Fat Boy Faggots limbo dancing was very warmly received and earned a heartfelt round of applause.

Tutz has done a variety of invertebrate impressions. As you are well aware her octopus is a work of beauty, and sometimes when she has been hanging in a boneless fashion over the top of her scratchy pole she has been mistaken for a grey furry squid.

Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west, received a gasp of delight as she came in the room in a variety of veils and proceeded to belly dance. It is said the most warmly received belly dancers in Turkey are those with ample proportions, and it was exactly the same in the front room. There was lots of cheering and 'huzzahs!' as Lulu gyrated madly around the coffee table.

Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face has amazed everyone with her magic tricks. She put Tutz in a box and sawed her in half. Tutz thought this was even madder than usual and chirped and 'PPPRrroot'ed in a wild and excitable fashion, large yellow eyes like saucers. Giggsey then pulled Trotter out of a cardboard box, which came as a bit of a surprise for Trotter because he didn't realise he was in there in the first place. She played card tricks and read peoples minds, she made David Copperfield disappear and thankfully couldn't remember how to bring him back again. She made a locomotive appear and race through the sitting room, which everyone was very excited about as they got some snacks from the restaurant carriage.

All in all the pets decided that Giggsey deserved the prize for such a great talent, and all agreed that she really had been hiding a light under a bushel for far too long.

Baubles, Bangles and Beads.

It was a heavy weekend.

I returned from Justins around midday and surprisingly felt rather good. I decided to start making my costume for the comic book hero party at the pub and travelled all the way to the Cowley Road in search of Blue Glass Beads for a bracelet.

£40 later I returned home clutching all manner of jewellery making equipment and materials and spent the rest of the afternoon drilling holes into sea shells and snail shells, and threading brightly coloured beads onto lengths of copper wire.

Gruey came round and was astonished to find me so active.

The Marks came round and were astonished to find me at home.

Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face was astonished by the beads and shells and copper wire and kept trying to sneak an inquisitive paw on the table to hook something off.

5 hours later I had completed my beautiful bracelet for my outfit, as Niamh, from Slaine the King. I was very excited and pleased with myself as it was a proper work of art.

It is rather a shame that the theme for the party is no longer 'comics' but 'super heroes', as Niamh is definately not a super hero.

I am at a loss for what to do.

The time is now

It is ten past five, although due to daylight saving and the Scottish and their feudal system of farming and tithing, it should be ten past four.

Lily May Wing has finally gone to bed.

Maxine, Georgia and their wierd squaddie straight friend have dissapreared into the mist towards Gainsborough Green.

Karl and Juicy are talking family values. Batter or not to batter, with breadcrumbs, and possibly a small serving of tartare sauce.

Juicy is off on a cruise next week, he will tour the highlights and the low lights of the meditteranean. Oh yes, Monacco, Tunisia, the Port of Spain and Gibraltor, if he's lucky he may get to kiss a barbary ape.(do they look like old men?)

The rest of us are all a bit limp, we are all a bit legs and arms, like random,small octopi out of water, Jan has, as always, great style and pose with a casual leg, but unfortunately, the casual aspect of the rest of our bodies is slack and upsetting.

Justin has just made me a bit of loo roll with staples in it. I shall probably cherish it forever.

Karl has matching, yet not matching socks on top of his stocking, suspenders and woolen, knitted thong.

Claire has been trying to tidy up, but the rest of us has prooved to much for her.

Knitted Baubles apparently. That and blamange, air condittioned jackets powered by chipmunks and chicken fillets, wings, scrawny necks and scratchy feet.

entry by lily may wing

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Thursday

Trotter is still humping shoes.

Fing is still scraping things off the side.

Tutz is still happily listening to her inner voices.

Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face is still standing crosseyed and mewing in an annoyed fashion.

Fat Boy Faggot is sleeping in other places as he doesn't like the new bath.

Truly scumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west is constipated.

Thats it really.

He is

'OOooooohhhhhhhhh

Trotterry Rotterry, packed his trunk
and said goodbye to the circus,
Off he went with a trottery trot, trot! trot! trot!

Trottery Rottery packed his trunk
And trotted back to the jungle
Off he went with a trottery trot, Trot! trot! trot! '

Trotter is not an elephant.

He is a free man.

Carpet Day

Every 3 years or so, Varne and I like to entertain ourselves by laying new carpet. This day has traditionally become known as 'Carpet Day'.

Carpet Day, also traditionally, normally falls on a Sunday, when Varne and I have terrific hangover headaches, so it is customary to fortify ourselves with alcoholic beverages before we start wrestling with the large unwieldy roll of carpet.

There is no traditional place to purchase the carpet- We have purchased carpets from the catalogue, from Mayes World of Carpets, from a lovely carpet shop on the Cowley Road, long since closed, and once, in-advisably, from the back of a lorry in the car park. The Carpet from the back of the lorry was the one that caused Varne and I the most distress as unfortunately we had chosen our rolls in the dark and had picked 3 different shades by accident.

Sometimes the carpet we have bought is too small, so after we have moved all the furniture into the garden and have got a proper sweat on, we unroll it and stare at it in abject disbelief, then try moving it around to see if it will fit if its length ways instead of sideways. Of course, this never works, so those types of carpet day are very unfulfilling.

Sometimes, and more usually, the carpet is too big and Varne and I become drunk in charge of Stanley knifes, so the edges of the carpet do not bear close scrutiny. After all these years it is a small miracle that Varne and I have not seriously injured ourselves, given the drunkenness and all.

I didn't know yesterday was to be a Carpet Day until Fly arrived in a state of nervous exhaustion.

Varne was on the turn, he advised, and was refusing to listen to reason regarding laying of carpets.

I went down to see Varne who was smoking and unamused. 'Fuck it' she said.

I told Varne that she was being terribly naughty and so Fly and I wrestled the long, thin, piece of carpet up the stairs and started to cut off the edges and staple it into place.

Varne watched from the bottom of the stairs for a while and then realised that Carpet Day was officially here, opened the wine and started marking out the next piece of carpet.

After several hours of Stanley knifes, pincers, Phillips screwdrivers, glasses of wine and staple guns the carpet was in place.

I decided to celebrate by baking a cake. I went to town and purchased all the ingredients and then spent some time whipping together all of the ingredients in the mixer. Trotter barked at me while I was grating the chocolate for the filling and decided that he needed a different view of the kitchen so inspected my progress from the back of the sofa through the hatchway.



The cake went into the oven and I waited. The promised half an hour came and went as I watched the cake get bigger, and bigger and bigger, yet refusing to set in the middle. So I carried on waiting and watching until an hour had passed and the dome of the cake was crunchy and crispy and a dark brown.

Unfortunately tragedy struck.

I carefully removed the cake from the cake tin and left it to cool.

I came back to cut it into slices and discovered that the inside hadn't cooked and was all gloopy. Disheartened, but not yet beaten, I sliced it into 4 slices. The bottom one was fine, the next looked like a donut where I had to scoop out the gloopy insides, as with the 3rd. The 4th, the peak of the cake suddenly made a dash for freedom and smashed into a million crumbly pieces on the kitchen floor.

Trotter got down from the back of the sofa and Lulu ran and hid. Fing sat on the side and pretended he hasn't noticed as I stared at the crumbs and cried. I really couldn't take it, it took so long to bake it.

I decided to make the best of a bad job and threw it all together anyway.



The only person who had a slice was Martha. I think everyone else was too scared.

All in all it was a disappointing end to Carpet Day, well, perhaps not for Varne, who found my blow up Pecker and was enourmously excited. I would of added the picture, but we've already been accused of pornography and I wouldnt want to proove them right.

White Christmas

Meanwhile, Captain Jack dreamt of Tuna and a force ten gale, and lots of things very nautical indeed.

Thelma

As you are all aware, Trotter is so jam packed full of naughtiness that its inevitable that some of it has to escape.

The escaping naughtiness can sometimes be amusing, sometimes loud. Sometimes annoying and sometimes very stingy.

On Monday night the naughtiness came in the form of stingy.

The utter lunacy that is Thelma, next door, decided that she would purchase a can of cat food and a can of dog food for our pets, as she is prone to do on occasion. Sometimes she scrapes at the door with a bony finger and sometimes she stands by the front gate in a bemused fashion waiting for one of us to come out. On this particular pet food parcel occasion she choose to wait for one of us in her own front yard behind the enormous rosemary bush.

So, there she stood stood behind the aromatic herbs, singing hymns to occupy herself as she waited, swaying gently from side to side. Occasionally she clapped, or tried an experimental hop, just to keep herself amused.

So when Martha and a giddy Trotter came back from their walk, she leapt out from behind the bush in an excitable manner, waving the plastic bag and talking gibberish with a Jamaican accent. This, along with her slippers, red and black stripy socks, knitted hat and waterproof jacket was too much for Trotter to bear.

He leaped for the bag which by this point had been passed to a horrified Martha. And so, unfortunately, it was that Marthas hand was bitten by Trotters slavering 'anti Thelma' jaws. (As, not only is Trotter driven to distraction by bags, Thelma is the thing he hates the most in the world. More than pot plants, more than bedroom doors, moor than his own dinner bowl)

Embittered by the pain , Martha threw the bag of cans to the floor and stormed into the house crying 'WHY DOES SHE HAVE TO DO IT?', gripping her crippled appendage to her chest as if it were a wounded baby. 'WHY?'

'Because shes barking mad, Martha', i replied, but this fell on stony ground. Martha sat and muttered and rocked on the sofa in pain.

Trotter fell into a deep sleep, having discharged a sizable chunk of naughtiness he was able to rest, peacefully, for a whole half an hour. Unlike Martha, who is still in pain 3 days later.

Big Lou

On Monday Big Lou went for his yearly M.O.T.

the vet carefully checked his tire pressure and made sure he had enough oil, then weighed the boy and discovered he was 5 kilograms.

'Hmmmm', said the vet, 'considering the size of his head, thats a reasonable weight'.

Trotters has had a busy weekend dressing Fillipa Hole and some other random itternerant that ended up at my house on Friday night.

Fillipa was dressed in the beautiful purple sequinned dress that Trotters had run up on his old battered singer sewing machine, painstaikingly covered in sequins by a muttering Giggsey Girl.

In the dress, pink leg warmers covered in knee high black socks, a black wig and Carleens tiger skin robe, he resembled nothing more than a hooker on crack cocaine. It was warmly received by the rest of us as we had been up all night celebrating the weekend and were rather the worse for wear.

Varne decided that if Fillipa was in a frock that legs shood be shaved, but unfortunately took some skin off in the process, and a nipple was nearly lost in a horrific clipper incident.

Now the weekend is nearly over.

I feel like ive been kicked repeatedly in the kidneys by an irate racehouse. Milan is wrapped up on the sofa in one of the throws looking like a dead brown bear cub.

We are watching Crufts, the best dog show in the world. This has not stopped Trotter from chasing Tutz up the stairs. Trotter does not have a snowballs chance in hell of ever winning an award at Crufts, we dont know his breed, he's not particularly agile and he's downright disobediant. He did win Scruffiest dog at Oxford Pride but through default, as he was the only entrant. Mind you, I don't know any other dogs that have dreadlocks on their willies, so I think it was probably a well deserved win.

Discussion

'I think the most moving performance by an animal in a film has to be from the Incredible Journey, ' says Fing from the sofa. ' When that poor dog falls into the big watery pit and everyone thinks he has drowned',

'Oh Come on! Lassie has to be the most moving pet performer of all time?', disagrees Lulu , sitting on the kitchen side as she mixes a bowl of cookies with a cigar hanging out the side of her mouth.

'I don't know about 'moving', says Giggsey Girl The Stupid Slug Face, 'But I happen to think the best acting ever done in a film is by the cat who played Jones in Alien, then headlined in the sequel, Aliens, INCREDIBLE performance. Outstanding, that was pure terror on that cats face'

'Are we limited to cats and dogs?' asks Fat Boy Faggot, sat on the bench being given a manicure by Tutz, 'As I personally think that little pig rounding up those stupid woolly sheep in Babe deserves a medal'

Tutz is disinclined to comment as she feels the use of animals in films is akin to theft, do these animals reap the benefits of their hard work? No! Do they get to travel the world in yachts, dripping with diamonds and drinking Crystal? No! All they get, and that's if they're lucky, is regularly de-flea'd and groomed incessantly. No, she rather be quite mad and left to her own devises she decides as she becomes cross eyed with concentration, applying a coat of pink varnish to Faggots nails.

Trotter sits and listens to the conversation and cannot remember watching any films with animals in. Suddenly he has an epiphany. 'My favourite animal in a film is Ermentrude from the magic roundabout' he pipes up.

All the other pets do not disabuse him of this notion and smile at him warmly, 'Ermentrude it is then' says Fing, in a good humour for once.

Lulu makes tea for everyone and they all sit around and talk about the good old days instead.

Trotters Horoscope

Cancer: It could very well be that something in the air has got you out of sorts; many disagreeable odours cause more dramatic reactions from creatures with a high degree of sensitivity! Do what you can to alert your human companion to the irritant; no one wants you to suffer if they can do anything to prevent it! Some cleansers used at home may contain harsh chemicals; if that’s the case encourage your housemate to seek out more environmentally friendly products.

http://horoscopes.msn.co.uk/horoscopes_astrology/petscopes.php

Trotter in Soft Focus

Sometimes She

Sometimes Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face sleeps on top f the TV and is warmed by the hot air coming from the radiator.

Sometimes Giggsey Girl likes to force her body through a tiny gap in the kitchen, through which she can access a collapsed set of drawers that should actually open out into the sitting room. It is in these drawers that she keeps her collection of marbles and bits of string, and is also her favourite hiding place as none of the other cats know about it.

Sometimes Giggsey Girl travels to an alternate reality through an old pipe in Thelma's garden, where she is a tax inspector and seizes peoples particulars in the name of the law.

Sometimes she likes to tap dance while listening to the work of Miles Davis.

Sometimes she goes paint balling with Trotter.

Occasionally, when the opportunity arises, she particularly enjoys sitting in large cardboard boxes and laying in wait for the other cats. It is at this point that she likes to jump out and scare the willies out of them. This can often result in a nasty swipe round the back of the head from the aggrieved party.

Today

The Preachers Lane Pet Choir are sat in a semi circle in the lounge.

Fing is perched on top of the television with a tiny baton in his right paw.

He looks at each pet in turn, all of whom almost imperceptively nod to indicate they are ready.

He waves the baton in the air, and they start....

'Happy Birthday to You!,

Happy Birthday to You!,

Happy Birthday Dear Rob!

Happy Birthday to You!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROB from all of us at Trotter and Fing!

Sound of Silence

It has been terribly quiet on the estate recently.

Varne lost the key to Uncle Ernies moped, so her and Gruey havent had any drunken escapades to the garage, or any accidents in the multi storey car park.

Due to the incessant rain Andray, Dane and the boys have not been practasing their MCing underneath the basket ball hoop on the corner.

Due to the mud caused by the incessant rain Fing has been unable to practise his stunt motorcycling and has been forced to stay in doors and rub dubbing into his chaps and leather harness.

Trotters is even having a quiet night, sitting forlornly on the arm of the sofa after Martha removed the sock he was trying to hump.

All the pets are housebound for fear of getting their hair wet.

There have been no drag queens coming for fashion advice, or wild chill outs involving cross dressing and gurning. Nothing.

Even the crackheads on the next block have been keeping a low profile.

Everyone is watching the calandar waiting for summer to arrive, because as Big Mark says, 'Its just so much more practical' than winter.

sleep

As is to atone for his abnormally naughty behaviour the night before, Fing spent the entirity of last night huddled on his pillow, so close to me that at times his fur ended up right up my nostrils.

He laid next to me and purred.

He laid next to me and looked imperiously at the other pets as they mooched around the room and landing.

He attacked the other pets if they came too close to me.

He slept peacefully without so much of a hint of a scrapy paw.

He obviously didn't scare Trotter off with his actions, because we awoke with Trotter firmly ensconsced on the end of the bed and a lovely big poo on the floor next to the mirror.

Why?

Fing was Fractious last night.

He sat and started at me from the side of the bed and refused to come and get on his pillow. He eyed me with disdain and stalked off fair bristling with annoyance.

I don't know what prompted this peeved demeanour but peeved the little bugger was.

He first woke me at 3 by attacking Tutz who was sound asleep on her scratchy pole and who really didn't deserve it.

He then sat and carefully streched to rattle my jewellery in its box, for which he was a rewarded with a warning 'Fing....' He turned and looked at me through slitted eyes like I was something he'd trod in and still had the residue on his paw, then turned and sat and watched me. I fell back to sleep, only to sit bolt upright in bed moments later when he pushed my National Geographic to the floor. He dissapeared through the cat flap in the bedroom door.

I tried to go back to sleep and was releived when I heard him slither back through the cat flap and jump onto the bed. At last! I thought, he is coming to bed. But no. He stood next to me and glared down into my face, then carefully turned round and sat down perfcetly aligned for his furiously lashing tail to switch across my face.

At this point I got up, defeated, and went downstairs to put some food out, but the boy was not to be appeased and spent the rest of the night stomping round the house upsetting the other pets and annoying me with his scraping.

I sometimes wonder what we have done to deserve our pets?

Take Trotter.

Trotter has taking his penchant for barking to a new stage and has decided that he doesn't really like it if you are sitting down and so stands and barks at you for long protracted sessions.

This has been bought on by Marth having some time off with her flu and having to lay on the sofa because she was too poorly to do anything else.

This has unsettled Trotter who is unused to seeing Martha prostate, so he is sharing his angst with continous barking, mainly directed at the table, the mop bucket and one chair. The barking usually lasts for an hour, after which he has taken to humping shoes for a short period before finally settling down behind Martha with his dinner bowl to recover.

I hope our new neighbour is a dog lover.

Whales and Dolphins

What is it with Japan?

Not only do they persistently push at the International Whaling Commission for the ban on Whale hunting to be lifted, and after 20 years, this year they may well succeed, they also herd innocent dolphins onto beaches and cut their throats and leave them to die hideous terrifying deaths for NO REASON what so ever.

The brutal dolphin deaths are allowed as it is cultural. I beg to differ. I think they are allowed to carry on because Japan has no respect for the world or any of its creatures. This was displayed to their human victims in concentration camps in the second world war and it persists today in their whaling and slaughter of dolphins.

They are sadistic, fascists who believe they have complete impunity to the laws that govern the rest of us.

Dolphins and whales have warm blood, give birth to live young, they breathe the same air as us. They are sentient creatures who live in close family groups with complex emotional ties.

Should it be allowed that they are rounded up and slaughtered just because its traditional?

Just because something has happened in the past doesn't mean it has any place in the future.

Boy

'Martha', I said, 'Fing really wants to go to ballet, but they don't let cats into the theatre'

She paused for a second in the hallway to consider my boy, lying next to me on the pillow.

'Disguise him as a pumpkin' she said, 'he's the right colour for it'

Grave News

We at Trotter and Fing were extrodinarily excited to read about an Ostrich that has terrorizing villagers in Cornwall.

The naughty bird has taken to leaving its home and visiting the local graveyard where it like to read the tombstones and eat all the floral tributes left by bereaved relatives.

Unfortunately the Ostrich has taken exception to the bereaved and has taken to chasing them out of the graveyard.

All except for one elderly man called Edgar, who apparently turned round from his wifes grave and saw the Ostrich eyeing him up.

'what are you doing here?' he asked the bird, then fed him some grass. The Ostrich was immediately taken with eccentric Edgar and they have taken to meeting in the Graveyard for informal chats and to play chess.

Porn Shocker!

In a shock to the system, Trotter and Fing has been banned on Robs Server at work, for containing PORN!

I don't know in what sick deluded world Rob's browser works, in that looking at picturs of cats and dogs is a bit kinky and wrong, but I know I don't want to be a part of it!

You do it so well.

Things are kind of returning to normal at the house.

Martha has gone back to work after her 3 days of sickness.

Trotter has purchased a sewing machine and is making accessories for Drag Queens and has employed Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug Face to sew on sequins and beads, having 2 left feet she is finding this very frustrating and is muttering to herself about fucking drag queens and why cant everyone stick to normal clothes? There they are in the sitting room, surrounded by silk and satin and lace, with sequins stuck to their little furry foreheads and bodies they sparkle as they move, its kind of like Blackpool Illuminations on a tiny scale but less expensive to run.

They have made elbow length gloves and silk purses, they have made satin wraps and fake fur stoles. They are just about to start on a full length dress, 1920's style with rows of dangling beads in purple.

Lulu is asleep underneath a pile of discarded material, buttons and prototypes that went wrong.

Tutz, meanwhile, is playing upstairs by herself. She is bouncing like Bambi in and out of the bedrooms. Occasionally she jumps into the bathroom to be surprised by Faggot on purpose, just to give her jumps a startled appearance and an air of shocked surprise. Sometimes she jumps nimbly, sometimes like a thundering baby elephant, sometimes somewhere in between. She 'Prroootttsss!' to herself as she jumps, on and on and on, in and out and in.

Fat Boy Faggot is asleep on a towel above where the hot water pipe is nearest the floor and tries to ignore the jumping and occasional intrusions of Tutz. He is dreaming of a holiday in Gran Canaria and thinking about fake tan.

Fing is in the kitchen. He is sitting on the draining board and has his head underneath the blind. He was watching the world go by but has fallen asleep bolt upright like a sphinx impervious to his surroundings.

And so the house is full of the sound of sporadic jumping, the whir of the sewing machine, Giggsey Girls muttering and Lulu's snoring. It is like any other normal Tuesday in as much that no day is normal in our house.

Yesterday

Welcome to the Year of the Boar, well, it started yesterday officially but everyone was up to different things and didn't have time to write an entry.

At the Brewery Gate Eryc was recovering from a strained groin muscle after a night of frenetic pole dancing in Swindon, occaisionally Eryc enjoys leaving the safe haven of Oxford and departs for other towns and cities where he is not well known in order to maintain his pole dancing hobby. Unfortunately there is no where in Oxford where a lone young male can suddenly and with out any warning, leap to the stage and start doing random, and some might say reckless, acrobatics around a slippery pole. So, at the pub Eryc recovered.

At the house Martha was all crouped up and wrapped in a throw and looked like a cross between Yoda and Ghandi on smack, unable to move without inducing vomiting, the world turned on around her.

Trotter had found a lovely new outfit for Filipa Hole who arrived and proceded to potter around the house in a cream linen pin stripe 2 piece and black wig while Ashley sat on the bench and read about spiritalism.

In the garden Fly and Steve built a lovely waterproof canopy so we can sit outside in the rain, if we want to obviously, its just nice to have a choice. Quite excitingly we had visiting royalty in the garden, Ginge decided he wanted to know just excatley what Steve and Fly were up to, being a chartered engineer he wanted to make sure that they were following the instructions and not scrimping on nuts and bolts.

Fing prowled around in a foul mood, looking for mischeif and scraping things off the side just for the hell of it, even though there wasn't anyone there to see him do it and be irritated by it. He took satisfaction that we would probably stumble across the scraped things at a later time and wonder what they were doing on the floor. Sometimes he likes to scrape things into drawers and then cover it up with whatever is in the drawer so sometimes it can take you months to accidentally stumble across it again. He's a wanker like that.

Tuts laid on the bed for a change and found it all a bit unsettling, but decided to persevere.

Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug Face found Martha as Yoda/Ghandi completely irrisistable and spent most of the day trying to clamber on top of her and share the love. Unfortunately this drove Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest Dog in the West, quite spare, as she was lying at Martha's feet guarding her.

I spent the entire day cooking and cleaning and loading the dishwasher and doing Martha's washing and taking the dogs for a walk and general domestic stuff like that. I did pause for a moment to eat 2 cream cakes and then immediately wished I hadn't because it made me feel very sick indeed.

Stuart raced past the house in Uncle Ernies Electric Go-kart, all surprised and excited about just how fast the thing went, beeping the horn and laughing like a surprised mental patient.

So, the only person who had and sort of a normal day was Fat Boy Faggot, who slept as usual.

The Eyes of Giggs

Why.

Please accept our apologies for the lack of transmission.

Unfortunately there is terrible illness in the house.

Everyone has gone down with colds and sickness, all except Fing who just has a gammy eye.

Service will be resumed shortly.

who?

'Do we like Muse' asks Fing

'Never heard of them' says Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug Face.

?

Oh dear.

The pets are very unsettled by Russel Brand.

I am too.

Land of Hope and Glory

The pets are all sat in the sitting room waiting for the Brits to start. Martha is there as well with her red wine. Trotter has a glass of cherryade, Faggot a glass of chardonay. Tutz has a small schonner of sweet sherry, Fing and Giggsey Girl are sharing a bottle of cava and Lulu is obviously sticking to her favourite, Jack and coke.

There is popcorn and tortilla chips, cheese balls and for Tutz, some pilchards as a light snack.

Who will win?

The tension is mounting!

Boy

The first time ever I saw your face

I thought the sun rose in your eyes

And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave

To the dark and the end of the skies

Rez

Rez, while marginally more friendly towards me, also normally makes herself scarce when I am around.

Therefore I was equally chuffed to get this lovely picture of Rez having a Wig Wam day.

Who knows what photographic delights of the infamous Cuddesdon Duo will follow?

Big Lou

Yesterday while I was visiting Cuddesdon, Big Lou made a brief appearance, and very kindly sat and let me take his picture.

I feel very honoured as normally he shoots off as if the very devil himself were at his tail virtually every time he see's me.

Contrary to

Contrary to popular belief, Owls do not enjoy being used for display purposes in shopping centres at lunch time.

This is mainly due to the fact that they are solitary creatures who would, if left entirely to their own devises, would be asleep at lunch time, and in fact the whole day as they are nocturnal and the sunlight hurts their eyes.

They would much prefer to be somewhere dark and comfy and prefrably with a large supply of small rodents to eat. They also prefer to attend chess tournaments and listen to classical music on the Ipods.

Breakfast at Tiffinys

There has been a dreadful upset in the house today.

Trotter followed Martha out of the kitchen as she was dispensing breakfast and as a result was there, behind Martha, when she gave Lulu her Iams.

This caused an awful disagreement between the two dogs who attacked each other.

It took Marth some time to seperate them and she had to carry a struggling Trotter to the kitchen where he was too upset to eat his breakfast and stood barking at the security gate for some few minutes.

And then

The rest of the day started with Martha and I being unable to get hold of Varne, a most unsettling and unusual occurrence. I ended up walking down to see if she was at home, only to find her lying prostrate on top of a blow up mattress, 'hellloooo?' she whispered as I walked in the door.

It transpired Varne had been tripping the light fantastic until 5 in the morning and looked as though she could probably benefit from a years bed rest. Obviously bed rest is not an option when shopping is on the cards so, being the complete trooper that she is, Varne composed herself and was ready in 15 minutes.

We left the estate pushing the trolley and heading for Primark.

Varne advised that she would need to stop for a bottle of Lucozade at some point as her mouth was 'as dry as a nun's cunt'. Having a hangover from hell myself, I could only concur.

It was when I was withdrawing cash at the Halifax that we noticed the sale in the Disney shop. Varne's eyes lit up like a fruit machine when its just about to pay out. It was proper bargain paradise and we stocked up on bags full of reduced Disney crap to give to people next Christmas.

We went to Primark next and as it was Pension day Martha bought everyone gifts.

Shane arrived shortly afterwards and we went to Sainsburys where Martha and Varne were harangued by a cripple with his own M&S shopping trolley who persuaded them to walk him back to his own home.

Shane and I thought fuck that for a game of soldiers and did a runner with our shopping and went home for a cup of tea. Martha, Varne and Mrs Warboise ended up having to escort the shambling cripple and his trolley full of produce all the way to the bad lands of Riverside Court where all the drunks, druggies, disabled and traffic wardens have to live. Its a modern day Bedlam but without any nice wardens to beat the inmates senseless if they get too unruly, which I think is a dreadful pity.

So, having drunk tea and eaten donuts we went to the Goldfish Bowl and inadvertently stumbled across the complete cutie who served us. We asked him questions for ages just so we could look at his lovely face, but eventually we got to the front of the queue and were served by an upsetting man with a face like a toad, well although he resembled a toad he face wasn't actually green/browny like a taod, because that would be downright peculiar, aquatic centre or not.

After that Eryc came round for dinner and we were awed and stunned by the celebrities ice skating on what ever the TV show is called, and then I went to work at The Brewery Gate.

Now I am home and its the end of the day. I don't know if tomorrow will have heron's or mad cripples or any ice skating, but I shall let you know when I find out.

It has been an unusual morning.

I awoke to find myself in bed with all of the throws from dowstairs in bed with me. This had clearly unsettled Fing, who was perched on top of the chest of drawers, all ruffled and more than a bit peeved that he couldnt see his pillow to jump on.

After wrestling my way out of the throw and clearing a space for him he lept down and surprised himself with how much he loves me.

We asked Martha for a cream tea for breakfast, and wierdly we got it, we shared scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam, though without any tea, and enjoyed it immensley.

While Martha was downstairs doing what ever it is that Martha does when she is downstairs alone, she noticed Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face, all feet and eyes at the back door. So she went to let her in, only to be extraordinarily surprised when a heron took off from the side of the pond.

She raced out into the garden and shook her fist at the departing bird then did a quick stock check of the pond to make sure every one was safe and sound. This, only moments after she had scared the living daylights out of the fish in the globe in the kitchen by peering at them with one enourmous eye through the curved glass.

I can only wonder what the rest of the day will bring.

Bath

The new bath has been installed by an old decrepid and extreamly smelly plumber. None of the pets like him or his plumbing way, but at least he hasnt got wierd eyes, which is a bonus.

This Morning

This morning Fing wanted black pudding and eggy bread for breakfast, but as usual Martha told him to knob off so he had to go without.

Fat Boy Faggot is waiting nervously in the bathroom as a new bath is arriving and being fitted today.

He wonders if it will be as comfy and inviting as the last one?

Balls

Lucas by Day Duncan by night says,

'BRING IT ON!!!!!'

Ouchy

Today Street Ducks all over Oxford stand by the egge of the river and refuse to let the River Ducks out.

Revenge is a dish best served cold.



These River Ducks from Port Meadow are using a coke can as a brazier in an attempt to free their trapped bodies form the ice.

The death of me

The pets have spent their morning at the Green Hill having quite the best fun in the snow.

They built a snowman and threw snowballs at each other, they dragged the toboggan to the top of the hill and crammed all their furry bodies on top before whizzing to the bottom and starting all over again.

There was a near disaster when no one noticed Trotter pulling his home made snow board to the top of the hill, secretly he did it because he knew that if anyone spotted him they would be bound to stop his fun.

With this in mind he carefully took the board to the other side of the hill, the side facing the river, before taking a running jump to get it started.

Off the shiny formica shot at 100 miles an hour towards the frozen side of the river with Trotter holding on for dear life. luckily Trot being Trot, he couldn't resist grabbing at some branches as he got near the edge otherwise he might have followed his board to a watery grave.

The other pets were horrified when they found him and told him off for being such a silly boy. They were all so shocked that Fing decided they should go home and get out of their cold wet clothes and drink hot chocolate and watch the cold snowness from inside the safety of the sitting room instead.

Elsewhere

Meanwhile, in Cuddesdon,

Big Lou and Rez are screaming with happiness as they shoot down the field on the back of an old coal bag and

Tiny Margo, Poochies and Pickles are looking at the 3 inches of snow and asking - what the fuck are we supposed to do with that?

Tutz

Tutz becomes aware that she has been asleep, she is all warm and comfy in her position on top of the washing basket as it is next to the radiator and very toasty.

She is a little more than surprised to discover a winter wonderland outside when she opens her eyes however.

She believes herself to be the only one awake until she sees Lara and Trotter hairing around outside in the pre dawn darkness making fresh footprints in the snow before anyone else gets up.

She is a little dissapointed.

She didn't believe it would snow.



How wrong could one little cat be?