rebel

With headphones on, listening to Gangsta Rap, Tutz enjoys nothing more than a spot of random vandalism and spraying graffiti on underpasses.

This is her tag, so if you see it you know a small grey cat in a hoody is lurking with menaces somewhere near by.

The best laid plans

Faggot was considering starting a revolution, but, to be honest, he couldn't be bothered to get out of the bath and become an insurgent.

Under consideration

Fing is considering opening his own dance studio and has had a logo designed.

Gone to the.....

Following the collapse of Trail Finders , Trotters has opened his own travel agents.

He has a limited selection of offers, but if you want to go to the Isle of Dogs, Trotter is your man.

The Captains Table

The Captain has had a very tiring day.

He patrolled the yard at 6am, as is his wont, then took a bus to Dover where he attended the Salty Old Sea Dog reunion and gave a speach on what he has done since leaving the navy.

The speach was rewarded with thunderous applause and the Capatin was awarded a lovely carraige clock for his mantlepiece at home.

He drank Rum, sang sea shantys and reminissed about Ports around the world and sighed fondly thinking about all those bitches around the world.

They watched a short film on depletion of the Tuna stocks and then went on a tour of an army destroyer.

A little bit tipsey, he caught the bus home and collapsed exhausted on the sofa, thinking happy thoughts and wagging his tail.

Its not what you do its the way that you do it

Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west and Tutz have gone to the cinema to eat popcorn and watch 'The devil Wears Prada'.

Trotter and Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug Face have gone to field in the middle of no where and have donned camouflage outfits, goggles and sturdy footwear and are haring around a field shooting paint balls at each other.

Captain Jack is pulling Lucas By Day, Duncan by night, across the sitting room by his back leg.

In Cuddesdon, Louis Vitton is sitting patiently by the mole hill waiting for the stupid velvety mole to stick his great big whiskery nose out of the hole so he can bite it. Resonance is in the field teaching the cows netball.

Tiny Margz is painting by numbers while Poochies sleeps in a little furry heap on her bean bag.

Axl is bored, nose pressed against the patio door glass wishing he was out running in the fields beyond the back fence.

Fat Boy Faggot and Fing, the cat I can't forget, have been shopping. They have brought socks and pants in Primark, chocolates from Thornton's, DVD's from Virgin and Sushi from Sainsbury's. They are now at home drinking Tea and Fat Boy has his paws in a bowl of warm soapy water to try and stop them aching.

At Varne's Ginge sits on the side in the kitchen and watches Varne patiently while she cooks dinner and wonders if it will be fish for dinner tonight.

The last Unicorn

Yesterday it rained. Rained and Rained, like it was never going to stop. The water poured into drains, and when it had filled up the drains it started to rise, filling up peoples houses and causing havoc everywhere. In some places people wondered if they should attempt to find 2 of each animal and force them onto rubber inflatables, some clambered onto their rooftops and waited to be rescued. Thankfully we had no flooding at Preacher's Lane yesterday, but the rain caused problems for some.

Fing missed 3 appointments yesterday because he cannot bear to get his paws wet.

He missed an appointment at the opticians. Although he has purrfect 20/20 vision, he does like to keep the 3 yearly appointments, if only to amaze the optician with his optical skills.

Not only the opticians but an appointment with the doctor where he had intended to discuss his shaky leg and the problems it was causing with his samba dancing. Why, only the other day the shaky leg had caused a singularly embarrassing moment when pressed up against the Welsh Ladies Champion in a set routine. The Welsh team, on tour in a series of exhibitions to display their swarthy dark looks, freestyle Samba Style and history lessons in Mining had insisted that Fing be removed from the arena, amongst shouts of 'PERVERT!' and 'YOU AUGHT TO BE ASHAMED!!' from the crowd.

Fing stares stonily out of the window from his perch on top of the TV and remembers the day with horror. The shaky leg must be addressed!

And finally, FINALLY, the most important appointment of them all. His 3rd recall for the auditions of Lord of The Rings, the musical, where he had been shortlisted for the role of Aragorn, son Arathorn. But no. No. Due to the biblical flood-like nature of the rain he is trapped in the house and his musical dreams shattered. He wipes a teary eye with a shaky paw and sniffs quietly in a dignified manner.

It is at that point that he turns round and finds the rest of the pets sat around the coffee table with Trotter wearing a blue and white stripy pinny, serving tea and cake!

All thoughts of missed appointments dissapear like mist on a sunny day and he asks Trotter for a coffee and helps himself to a vienniese whirl.

Sometimes rainy days are just the best of all he decides.

URGENT! URGENT!

Needed urgently, home for large ginger and white stripy cat.

His name is Fluffy and he currently lives in an old peoples home where he sits on the laps of the elderly and allows himself to be petted by the knarly old arthritic fingers of the oldsters.

Unfortunately for both Fluffy and the Oldsters, new legislation states that old peoples homes are not allowed to keep pets, so all the Old's will loose a beloved friend and poor old Fluffy, unless offered a loving home, will be sent to the knackers yard this Friday and will be put to sleep.

You obviously understand that we cannot possible introduce another animal into our humble abode, Trotters and his autistic tendencies would never understand, and to be fair, last time I rescued a cat it had to live in my bedroom for 3 months and that was before we had Trotter and the cat flap in my bedroom door. It would be a disaster, so!

If you know where a neutered, very personable ginger and white stripy tom could live out the rest of his years, please let me know.

(I know he probably smells of old people and piss but that's nothing a once over with fairy liquid won't cure)

Snack

In the kitchen Truly Scruptious Lulu is baking.

She has made angel cake and sachertorte. She has made rock cakes and shortbread biscuits.

All this for a light afternoon snack.

For herself.

Good lord, no wonder she's the chubbiest dog in the west!

How the bell tolls

As you are well aware, Trotter tends to gibber like a psychiatric patient at the full moon every time he goes on his walk.

Sometimes this is so pronounced first thing in the morning that Martha wrestles him back in through the front door to leave him barking like a thing possessed, stood up with tiny paws pressed against the glass in the door. She has always been concerned that the loud gibbering at this time of the morning may upset the neighbours, which has always struck me as rather ironic, as she doesn't seem to worry that the barking from the house may be equally loud and annoying.

Anyway, yesterday morning Trotter must have been communing with his inner voices because he didn't make a sound as Martha put on his lead. He didn't make a sound as they left the house, or walked round the block. He didn't even get wild and excitable when they got back to the house, when the gibbering is normally at it's intense worse, as Trotter knows that his breakfast awaits him.

Martha was dead chuffed.

It was with some shock then, when Martha popped into Varne's for her supper on the way home from work, that Varne announced that Aisha had overslept that morning.

Apparently the sound of Fly whistleling on the way to work around 6am is Aisha's wake up call, and then she snoozes until Trotters insane gibbering howl wakes her with a start at 6.45 and she knows its time to get up and get the kids ready for school.

Not so yesterday morning when a silent Trotter passed by, leaving Aisha fast asleep and the kids late for school.

Perhaps this is a lesson for us all. They say that everything happens for a reason, and until last night we did not know that Trotter was put on this earth to be an alarm clock.

As well as an interior designer.

And the beat goes on...

And Trotters legacy lives on.

I found a trail of tiny orange paw prints starting at the back door, across the sitting room floor, on the sofa, through the hatch. Across the kitchen top, smattered on the hobb, only to find Fing with bright orange paws eating his lunch on the side.

Being the composed and dignified Boy that he is, he didn't struggle at all as we washed his feet, just looked completely unamused.

So unamused that after we had finished he went upstairs and pissed in my washing basket. But thats the sort of Boy that he is.

Peter Pan

Yesterday was the official launch of Peter Pan in Scarlet, and Fing, in his role as literary critic, was invited to the launch party.

He hob nobbed with celebrities and drank champagne and nibbled on salmon canapes.

He listened to the speeches and watched the theatrical presentation with great interest and applauded politely at the end.

He made a modest bid for the Faberge egg in the silent auction and was not surprised when someone else walked away with it.

He chatted to the girls on the book stall, purchased a copy and had it signed by the author and illustrator.

In his taxi home he started to read the story, there is something wrong in Neverland, all the dreams are leaking out into the real world.

Fing suddenly has an epiphany. He suddenly remember when Trotter arrived, all unannounced like a theif in the night. He thinks back and realises it has been a nightmare from start to finish.

Has Trotter escaped from Neverland? Could he be.....

A Lost Boy?

And today?

Yesterday was World Animal Day, which of course went completely unoticed in most of South East Asia. In Korea they they bolied up some dogs for dinner, in China they showed you how to cook tiger on TV and in Japan the whalers polished up their harpoons and went out and butchered some whales for fun, and scientific purposes, just incase anyone checked.

But, lets not talk about these barbarians, because today is World Poetry day!

Poetry is a lot of things to a lot of people.

But Trotter thinks it's Pants.

Disappointment

I am very disappointed to announce that yesterday was World Animal Day and I couldn't let you know.

Unfortunately when I turned on my laptop last night it had a complete benny and I had to switch it off in a temper.

So apologies for the animals who didn't have a mention yesterday.

To the orphaned bear cubs in Canada especially.

Orphaned because of our Queens desire to have guards in bear skin hats.

Not any old bear skin mind you, but the bear skin of lactating mothers, as of course, when mothers are lactating they don't loose any fur, so their beautiful pelts, designed to protect them and keep them warm , are extra thick and luxurious.

So thanks Queenie! Thanks to YOU hunters are going out and blasting mother bears to death and leaving their tiny cubs to starve to death, because after all, there isn't a market for cub skin mittens.

If you would like to help the orphaned bear cubs please donate money to:

http://www.wspadonations.org/

Of course if all you can afford is a postage stamp how about write to the Queen and tell her to move her fucking arse into the 21st century and consider the use of fake fur in the hats of her guardsmen? Come on, If Pamela Anderson can do it then so can you!

Her Majesty The Queen
Buckingham Palace
London SW1A 1AA

BABY BEARS NEED THEIR MUMMY'S

MORE THAN GUARD'S NEED STUPID HAT'S

The Weds after the Drag Before

Salutations from the land of Drag!

Please accept my sincere apologies for not posting a post but unfortunately my legs have been in league with Lucifer and this has prevented me from reporting on the weekend.

The Dragsters gathered from all over the home counties.

Prior abandoned Eartha Kit and came as a maiden aunt.

Lorna showed everyone her magic tricks and gave several people nervous breakdowns.

Damon came in his Kate Moss drug bag dress and along with Stuart, the Bride of Frankenstein, won first prize in the Drag Queen competition.

In an unexpected result, Martha won best Drag King and spent the rest of the night pulling strange and unusual faces at cameramen.

It was, all in all, more fun than you could shake a stick at.

Captain Jack was very excited by Dean's sailor outfit, Lucas by day, Duncan by night was confused in a Tutu.

Tutz was very dissapointed that her Chairman Mioaw was not recognised for it's genious and so shat in a potted plant.

Fing found company in his fetish gear with Andi, and Giggsey Girl, the stupid slug face was not the only commando.

Trotter came as a small, derranged, black, shabby dog. But bearing in mind his brain damage no one said anything and just loved him anyway.

http://http://www.kitpix.co.uk/go/brewery_gate.htm

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?

Street Ducks - The enemy within

In some places Swan's have taken control of the riverbanks and have erected barriers at the waters edge.

Please lobby your M.P. to stop this injustice.

Swans.

Big fat bullys in white, the 4th Reich!

Swans.

Just because they're owned by the Queen they think they can get away with it!

Swans.

If they can break our arms just think what they can do to poor little street ducks!

Fight Injustice on our banks, Break down barriers in a town near you!

Bathroom Boy

Beds are different things to different people.

Welcome to Faggots World.

Meanwhile.....

Lulu lays in her luxuriant sleigh bed and wonders what the cats are having for breakfast.

Mothers little helper

When Trotter woke up this morning he was dismayed to find that Martha hadn't wet the bed, what with the new incontinence sheet and everything.

So to make her feel a bit better he pissed on her pillows then had a big poo on the floor.

There's no place like home.

Shame

There has been a carnival air in the house this afternoon as the cats prepared Martha's bedroom for the delivery of her new mattress with specially re-enforced plastic top sheet, to guard against urine.

As the cats springcleaned and Lulu supervised from the hallway in a hard hat, shouting directions and smoking a cigar, Trotter could be seen lurking in an suspicious manner in the corner.

'What ever is the matter?', asked Fing

'Well, i'm a little bit embarressed', says Trotter.

'I didn't realise Martha was incontinent'.

He knows

The pets are writing their letters to Father Christmas.

Tutz would like new attachments and upgrades to her scratchy pole.

Fat Boy Faggot would like a special cat hammock for the side of the bath.

Truly Scumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west is asking for a waterbed and a years supply of chocolate eclairs.

Giggsey Girl, the stupid slug face, is asking for a chamois leather, so she can buff herself up to a wondrous and near impossible shine in the morning.

Fing, the cat I can't forget, wants a new samba outfit and an E Type Jag.

And Trotter? Poor Dear Demented Trotter wants a beautiful beaded ruff, in scarlet. He wants a battery powered toy car and a pretend sub machine gun. He wants a toy train and an eagle eye action man.

Poor Trotter. The way it's going its going to be yet another year of disappointment with nothing but a lump of coal in the bottom of his stocking.

Love

Until one has Loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened.
~Anatole France~

The Wanderer's Return

Some of you may be wondering where the pets have been for the past few days.

Strangely enough they have just returned from Reading Festival, where they have been very drunk, spilling around listening to Rock music, vomiting behind bushes and talking to complete strangers about absolute crap.

Such is festival life.

They put up their 6 pet tent, unrolled their sleeping bags and unloaded their provisions.

They wandered around site and watched the parade pass before them.

They watched Placebo, the Streets, The Kaiser Cheifs and the Arctic Monkeys. Trotter was very excited about the Arctic Monkeys and could be seen crowd surfing at the front.

Tutz enjoyed the burlesque circus and wonders if being suspended from the ceiling by large hooks in your back might be a bit stingy.

Fing spent an hour and a half queing for the showers only to realise, when a large man stumbled out of a cubicle all covered in soap suds, that they were all, infact, fucked, and was forced to join the hoi polloi in the communal showers, a distressing experience that he hopes never to experience ever again.

They met some cool people, some fucked people, some were handsome, but most pig ugly.

They have returned today exhausted and are now planning some home improvements and college courses for the new year.

Poochies - Patrick Moore impression

Poochies - Crazy like a Fox Impression

All night long

Fing had a dreadful nights sleep.

He went to bed early in his customary hair net and silk pajama's and to begin with was kept awake by a very irritating sawing noise.

The sawing was replaced at an indiscriminate time by Hercules yelping and Andray shouting loudly 'DID YOU JUST STEP ON MY DOG?!?'

Fing sighed and changed position to lay on his side and listened as the kids started to rap in a freestyle, disjointed, fashion on the street corner, and wished they could only string a sentance together normally, let alone try to rhyme.

I couldn't tell at which point he finally drifted into an uncomfortable sleep, only to be rudely awoken at 3 by a fracas around the corner at the crack house.

At this point he abandoned his bed and went downstairs and smoked a large cuban cigar to settle his nerves.

Meaning of life

"Well, at least my life hasn't been wasted so far" says Trotter proudly to Fing.

Trotter and Fing's Book Club

This months recommended reading by the pets is as follows:

Fing would like to recommend 'The Power of One' by Bryce Courtenay - a moving account of a young white boys growth into adulthood in apartheid South Africa, Fing is particularly moved by Pekay's relationship with his Chicken, Grampa Chook.

Tutz would like to recommend 'The Enchanted Wood' by Enid Blyton. Tutz would very much like to live in the magic Faraway Tree and imagines that there may be a world at the top of her scratchy pole if only she could find it.

Fat Boy Faggot would like to recommend 'On Sparta' by Plutarch and thinks that everyone would benefit from the Spartan lifestyle, amongst the other advantagess of ancient Greek life.

Giggsey Girl, the stupid slug face, would like to recommend 'Glory Road' by Robert Heinlein, as she would very much like the oppourtunity to travel through 20 universes fighting dragons and giants with a sword.

Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the cubbiest dog in the West, would like to recommend 'Cakes and Pastries' by Marks and Sparks, its a great cookery book and the cakes are to die for.

Trotter doesn't care which Title you choose as book of the month, but only asks that you try and read Hardbacks, as Paperback books upset him and have to be savagely destroyed.

Please look out for the Trotter & Fing sticker in all good bookshops near you, book club members receive a 10% discount and a previously savaged paperback to use as a door stop.

No, No, No, Yes.

"Who is that?", asks Trotter.

"No one knows", Says Fing.

no, no, no, know

"well, if you didn't know already you'd never guess he was a hairdresser", says Trotter to Fing.

Oh, no, no, no, no

"Do you think he knows us?" says Trotter to Fing.

Not Forgotten

Trotter is amazed to find Fing, sobbing hysterically, upon the sofa. Not only sobbing but wearing a sequinned suit, black wig and clutching a bottle of Southern Comfort, from which he has clearly imbibed.

'Whats the matter?', he asks the clearly distraught Fing.

'You DONT KNOW?' sobs the boy,

Trotter, confused, thinks for a moment and says, 'If I knew I wouldnt have to ask',

'You're right, says Fing, 'I shouldn't shout at you, with your poor tormented mind, its 29 years ago today that Elvis passed away'

'Christ', says Trotter, 'No wonder you're all shook up!'

Abstract.

Margo would like the world to know that it's not easy to wear trousers that look like Salvadore Dali's moustache.

Meanwhile...

......In a watery, alternative, reality, Codpiece, Willy and Spunk eat colour enhancing granules and dream of the open ocean.

One of Tutz Favourite Songs

Fish Heads by Barnes and Barnes

Fish heads, Fish heads
Rolly polly Fish heads
Fish heads, Fish heads
Eat them up, Yummm

In the morning
Laughing, happy
Fish Heads
In the evening
Floating in the soup

Fish heads, Fish heads
Rolly polly Fish heads
Fish heads, Fish heads
Eat them up, Yummm

Ask a Fish head
Anything you want to
They won't answer
They can't talk

Fish heads, Fish heads
Rolly polly Fish heads
Fish heads, Fish heads
Eat them up, Yummm

I took a Fish head
Out to see a movie
Didn't have to pay
To get it in

Fish heads, Fish heads
Rolly polly Fish heads
Fish heads, Fish heads
Eat them up, Yummm
They can't play baseball
They don't wear sweaters
They're not good dancers
They don't play drums

Fish heads, Fish heads
Rolly polly Fish heads
Fish heads, Fish heads
Eat them up, Yummm

Every day's a school day.

Today, Fing is teaching the other pets to crochet.

Fat Boy Faggot is trying to make a doiley.

Tutz, in her own mindless world of insanity, has created a large green dinosaur, that Fing eye's disapprovingly.

Truly Scumptious Lulu, the Chubbiest Dog in the west is making a bikini.

Giggsey Girl, the stupid slug face, is making camouflage netting.

Trotters has made himself some small booties and a large white cape in which he intends to pretend to be a superhero and rid the estate of evil.

Fing has made a beautiful pair of slacks to wear to his new samba class.

Tomorrow the pets will attend a lecture in Quantum Physics and discuss Steven Hawkins and his wheelchair.

What the pets are doing, right now...

In the sitting room Fing is dusting listening to Martha's Dr Hook CD.

In the bedroom Tutz is watching a documentary on the indigenous peoples of the South American Rainforest.

In Martha's room Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug Face is putting up some new curtains and changing the bed clothes.

In the bathroom Fat Boy Faggot is plucking his eyebrows before washing the immac of his back, sack and crack.

In the kitchen Truly Scrumptious Lulu is making pancakes and drinking Jack Daniels with orange.

And in the hallway Trotter is waiting for Martha to get home.

Street Ducks

As you are aware, homeless ducks have become a major problem in Oxford, unfortunately, the rivers are so full of pleasure cruisers and punters, swans, coots, old cars and shopping trollies that the ducks have been forced to live on the harsh concrete streets.

In some area's of Oxford the ducks have taken to squatting in University Buildings and peck in an embittered fashion at the feet of passing office workers.

So next time you think about going on a boat trip or laugh causually as you push an old car down the river bank, think.

Think about street ducks and the rising level of drug abuse and alcoholism in ducklings. Think of their tiny webbed feet all meant for water going crispy on the concrete.

Just Think!

Together we can work it out.

Trotwear

For Standard Lamps Savaged with Love.

Trotwear can be found in a Pound Paradise near you!

In a seperate time zone.......

Meanwhile, an overly excited Fat Boy Faggot, Tutz, Truly Scrumptious Lulu and Giggsey Girl the Stupid slug face are driving to London in Lulu's mini minor, on route to a Madonna concert.

What can I say?

Fat Boy Faggot screamed himself hoarse with adoration as his idol strutted her stuff up and down the stage.

Truly Lu spent most of the concert bouncing up and down trying to see the stage.

But Tutz and Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face found the entire concert overly contrived and were irritated by Madonna's buttocks.

The Northern Lights

Trotter and Fing drove to Blackpool in Fing's ferrari on Saturday morning. On Fat Boy Faggots suggestion they booked into a delightful camp hotel opposite the Flying handbag, they polled up, booked in, unpacked and went down and had a glass of wine.

The boys had never been to Blackpool and set off to the front to look for donkeys and were sorely disappointed when all they could find were obese people in motorized wheelchair's.

They went to the pleasure beach and purchased buckets and spades and were very disappointed when they were made to leave the beach due to the 'No Dogs April - September' policy. There was a little consternation as the sign did not say 'no cats' so Fing stayed on the beach and pissed on everyone's parade before he was chased off by an irate holiday maker with a wet towel in his hand.

Laughing to themselves about their naughtiness they went back to the hotel and ordered more wine.

After a small snack the boys set off to Funny Girls, where they had previously booked a table. They found themselves sitting next to an ex miner from Cardiff who's wife had run off with his brother, they told him that they really weren't interested thank you very much, and would he mind shutting the fuck up so they could watch the show?

After the show they went to Flamingoes and danced like spastics on acid before returning to the hotel to collapse in bed.

Fing awoke with the most terrible blisters from his new white brogues and found it so difficult to walk that the hotel's proprietor asked if he'd been gang raped in the night.

Sunday was another day of heavy drinking interspersed with a show by Fings favorite drag act - Kitty Litter. Trotter can't remember very much of this evening as he went back to the hotel for some pro plus and woke up the next morning on top of the bed, still fully dressed.

The next day Fing's ankles had still not calmed down so the boys got back in the ferrari and wove their weary way home.

Fangs for the Memory

Fing reads to Trotter from the Guardian,

"Guard dog mauls Elvis's teddy in rampage -

When Barney met Mabel, there was an instant - and fatal - chemical reaction.
On Tuesday night the doberman pinscher guard dog, after six years' blameless service, went berserk: within minutes Mabel, a 1909 German-made Steiff teddy bear once owned by Elvis Presley, more recently the pride and joy of an English aristocrat, lay mortally wounded.

Barney went on to rampage through hundreds of rare teddies, all on loan to Wookey Hole Caves in Somerset, and so valuable that the insurers had insisted on a guard dog to protect the premises at night. The aftermath, according to shocked staff, was appalling: shattered limbs, gouged eyes, ears torn off, and pools of sawdust everywhere."

Fing looks at Trotter over the top of his bi-focals and asks,

"Is he a relative?"

http://www.guardian.co.uk

Tiny One

Tutz bounces around the bedroom like bambi.

She thunders around like a herd of enraged baby elephants.

Occaisionally she will stop - dead in her tracks - with a look of complete amazement on her face. Where is she? Who are these other cats? Why is SHE a cat? She will stand in the silence and PRROOOTTT to herself before racing out of the door at a hundred miles an hour to tackle the rest of the upstairs.

She hides in the airing cupboard until Trotter has walked past.

She leaps like a flying bat from the top layer of her scratchy pole. She knocks over pictures in frames and knocks hats from on top of the shelves.

She puts on 50 Cent and then some G Unit and chants some offensive rap at Fat Boy Faggot who is lying in the bath with a face pack on.

She trys on shoes and chases flies, she slithers from layer to layer of her pole.

Then she curls up into a tiny ball and sleeps the sleep of the dead, conserving her energy for the next assault on the house.

Strike him off

My boy Fing, as you aware, has recently returned from a trip to the vets.

The Scottish vet, questioning my sanity, said he had 'probably hit himself in the eye with a stick or some such stuff'.

Question my sanity?

So how come the fucker missed the massive great big bite mark under Fings eye that has now become apparent now the eye is no longer swollen?

I'd call up and give them a piece of my mind, but there isn't much left that isn't addled with drink and drugs.

much ado about nothing.

Trotter is bored.

He is bored of chewing up the furniture, bored of pooing upstairs.

Bored of chasing Fat Boy Faggot and bored of harrassing Tutz.

He is bored of barking at Thelma and bored of party manifesto's.

He is bored of being locked in the kitchen when people leave the house and bored of being kept on a lead when he has been too naughty.

(It is not his fault, he beleives, that he has just too much naughtiness inside him all waiting to burst out)

He is bored of Karen Carpenter and bored of chedder cheese.

He is bored of Ice Hockey and bored of Bumble Bees.

Bored.

He lies on the sofa in a dejected heap and sighs.

Rose Garden

In some places Cowboys like to aggravate their herds by line dancing in an mad and frenetic fashion.

Unfortunately this can be fatal as horses detest line dancing and will trample you to death without so much as a by your leave or a beg your pardon.

Death by trampling is more likely to happen if you aggravate your herd in the open, as Horses do not frequent bars, night clubs or village halls.

Machine.

Fing was very interested to read that the largest object to be found in the universe resembles nothing so much more than a swarm of giant green jellyfish.

Not only this, but as the object is 200 million light years away, astronomers are actually looking back in time, at something 12 billion years ago.

He is amazed.

Who ever would have imagined that Jellyfish could time travel?

Sunshine

Trotter was very confused about the article he read about the Python who ate an electric blanket in America.

He thought it was hot in America.

Ouchy

...needlepoint?' I asked, 'he does enjoy a spot of embroidery and I wondered, in your opinion, if he may have slipped and caught himself in the eye with his needle?'

The Scottish vet looked at me for a moment, and said

'In my professional opinion Ms Hartley, I think it likely that he has perhaps caught his eye on a twig, or some such stuff, while in the garden. Also, that you might consider professional help yourself'

Fing

I don't know what Boy has done, but he has the gammiest eye in creation. I think he may of been fighting, been jabbed by a sharp stick as he came over the garden fence, or has inadvertently poked himself in the retina with a sewing needle, in a horrific needlepoint accident.

Vets at 7.20.

Maelstrom

Trotter did not like the thunder last night. Originally the roiling noise in the background had left him undisturbed until a massive crack awoke him and the chubbiest dog, who started to bark in distress.

Trotter, convinced we were perhaps being burgled, ran downstairs to run around aimlessly barking at the darkness.

In the end I had to have him in bed with me where he grumbled unhappily for quite some time.

Poor Trotter.

A Descent of Woodpeckers.

'Fing', asks Trotter,' what would you call it if it was a group of sharks, is it a shaol?'

'No', says Fing, 'That would be a Shiver of sharks'

'It is?' says Trotter, then thinks for a while. 'And hippo's, what is a group of Hippo's called'

'A Bloat', says Fing, casting a sideways glance at Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest Dog in the West.

'Bears?'

'a Sloth

'Giraffes?'

'a Tower

'Ravens?'

'an Unkindness

'And Me, Fing, what would a group of me be?'

'Well now Trotter, I think you'll find that would be a Chaos', says Fing, before swanning out of the door in his new leather swimming trunks and black afro wig.

Dead Men Tell No Tails

Captain Skipjack is patrolling the beer garden, he is trying to walk with a rolling gait to feel like he is at sea. Unfortunately the hard concrete does not feel like wood. Tragically there are no sails flapping overhead, no sea air in his whiskery face. He sighs and sticks his head through the gate for an experimental sniff, no. No tuna.

But wait! What was that?

Shiver me timbers! There's only a scurvy riddled rat edging its way incautiously down the side of the fence by the beer barrels!

Captain Jack calls fall his trusty, if distracted, bosun Lucas by day, Duncan by Night!

Lucas by day, Duncan by night had been standing and wagging his tail at the corner of the sitting room since breakfast so was more than prepared for the challenge. He raced down the stairs and harried the scurvy riddled rat! He chased him round the barrels, he caught him by the tail and killed him all of a sudden with not even so much as an apology!

'WOOF' barks the Captain! 'WOOF' and him and the Bosun run like maniacs round and round the garden to celebrate.

Crazy like a FOX!

Fing practises his crazy Samba rythms to Shakira's 'Whenever Wherever'

As he weaves across the floor he sings at the top of his voice,

'Lucky that my lips not only mumble
They spill kisses like a fountain
Lucky that my breasts are small and humble
So you don't confuse them with mountains
Lucky i have strong legs like my mother
To run for cover when i need it
And these two eyes are for no other
The day you leave will cry a river'

And can't help but wonder if the poor woman has a drug problem.

They couldn't touch us even if they tried

The pets are laying in the garden in small, hot, furry heaps, Fing has purchased a paddling pool for everyone and they are taking it in turns to dangle their paws in the water.

They are listening to Stevie Wonder's 'Hotter than July' and wondering how it could possibly be hotter without the world bursting into flame.

'I wish I was a Fish'. says Trotter and, for once, everyone agree's with him.

A Tall Tale

'Racoons are the most dangerous animals in the world. They are more dangerous than a charging bull elephant, more lethal than a hippo playing water polo.

They are more menacing than a pride of lions, tackling with them is more perilous than poking a cobra with a stick.

They will break into your house and raid the fridge, they will turn on your telly and watch the superbowl, then they will crap in your cupboard, trash the bin, rip up your clothes and then get trapped somewhere by accident.

It is at this point that they are most dangerous because when you find them in their trapped place they will probably be wearing your underwear and they are so embarrassed at being caught that they react with extreme violence - leaping from the trapped place and attacking your ankles'.

Fing looks at Trotter with a sceptical eye and asks, 'Are you sure you're not making this up as you go along?'

'No,' says Trotter. 'I know this for a fact as I am distantly related to them'

'Saints preserve us' mutters Fing and gets back to his broidery anglaise.

Carpe Diem

Yesterday I found Trotter in the hallway, furiously shredding something held in his tiny paws.

What could it be I wondered?

Why, it was the conservative party manifesto.

That's my boy!

Strange but True.

In some gardens there are pretty flowers.

In some there are cabbages and marrows and runner beans.

Some are covered in paving slabs whilst others are nothing but long grass.

In Thelma's garden there are dead herbs and a wastepipe that leads to an alternative Narnia where Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face is a tax inspector apparently.

Stranger things have happened at sea, but not much in my experience.

lacking

'Look Missus', says Ginge, the Ginger Junkie, to Varne, 'i'm telling you now there just isn't enough blanket here'

'So', asks Fing, after a lengthy discussion, 'in your opionion, what did the Roman's ever do for us?'



Tutz stretches on the second floor of her scratchy pole until her face is completely upside down yet on a level with Fing's, 'pppppprrrrOOOOOOOOTttttttt' she says, 'PPRROOTTTT!'



The other pets nod thoughtfully and consider her words for a moment, 'that's as may be Tutz' says Trotter, 'but I think their main achievement must surely be cement?'



'What about underfloor heating?' ask Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west, 'Or lovely straight roads?' says Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face.



'come, come' says Fat Boy Faggot, briskly from beside the book case, 'surely it's got to be Prada, Diesel and Gucci?'

Fundraiser.

It was a lovely day as the pets gathered in the Brewery Gate to join in the Oxford Pride Sponsored walk. Fat Boy Faggots thorny paw had healed up quite nicely and everyone commented on how brave he was to soldier on with such an injury.

Fing wore his new pink sun visor and Trotter wore welly boots, just in case of inclement weather.

Shane was wearing his hot pants underneath his trousers, just in case of emergency and Giggsey Girl, the stupid slug face, was wearing a crash helmet as she had no idea what to expect and is, afterall, stupid.

We were also joined by Winnie, Win win win, ex landlady of the Jolly, and tiny Margo form Cuddesdon, all resplendent in a blue sparkly collar and matching hotpants.

There was an air of great excitement and jollity, and the pets couldn't help but notice that several of the walkers were a little bit tip-toir, if not downright pissed as parrots.

Off they set, down Walton Street to the Jude, then to the Victoria arms. After a calm start to the day they then set off across the meadow.

No one had mentioned the heard of cows, the cow-pats, the thistles or the belligerent horses that wouldn't speak to you no matter how hard you tried.

Lorna, who had joined us at the Vicky, only has open toed sandals on so she suffered the most with the thistles, although even with socks and trainers in those bloody things made quite an impression.

We ordered drinks at the Trout and collapsed in an untidy jumble in the Garden. There was a feeling that the bar staff didn't approve of the drunkenness, but then, it might have been pets in hotpants, crash helmets and welly boots that tipped them over the edge. Who can be certain, but they were all a bit thin lipped and posh and wouldn't serve Trotter chips with chicken nuggets. Poor Trotter.

And so, the end was near, and we charged back across the meadow, choosing the quicker, straight across the meadow, route. This was very fool hardy as the thistles here were even bigger and the cows had been doing landscape gardening and had ploughed up all the ground.

None the less we made it, back to the Brewery Gate where a lovely buffet awaited.

indeed

Fat Boy Faggot returned from a nights cruising with a thorn in his paw. He sat with great stoicsm as Fing removed the thorn with a pair of tweezers.

I'm very worried about the sponsored walk tomorrow, he confided to Fing,

How on earth am I supposed to troll up the tober with a naff bat?

A spoonful of sugar

She proved to be quite a treasure as a nurse,' reads Fing to Trotter, 'Of course her kennel was in the nursery. She had a genius for knowing when a cough is a thing to have no patience with and when it needs a stocking around your throughout'

Trotters eyes are as round as saucers, I don't like the sound of that!' he says.

Fing closes his book and looks at Trotter over the top of his bi focals.

'I overheard Martha talking with Varne in the kitchen the other day. Apparently this Nana is coming to whip you into shape'

'it'll take more than a St Bernard in a pinny to whip me into shape!', cries Trotter! and with a 'HA HA HA HA!!!' runs up the stairs for his black cape.

Fing smiles his evil malicious smile and wonders how much trouble Trotter will be in by the time Martha gets home.

Selby

'where have you been'? Asks Fing.

'Wierdly enough, I've been talking to that Squirrel that lives in our tree', says Trotter, 'Did you know that the Squirrels of the world are presently fighting a war of attrition against the other rodents?'

Fing raises a graceful beige eyebrow, 'Attrition?'

'Yes apparently, the Squirrels, led by Selby in the back yard, are currently fighting against a combined hoard of Stoats, Weasels, Ferrets and Gerbils. Although the Squirrels have numbers on their side, apparently the Stoats are dead good mechanics and as a result have light armored infantry'

'Well I hope the Stoat's win, says Fing, 'In my opinion Squirrels are nothing but rats with bushy tails, and the way that one fiddles with his nuts at the end of the garden is really beginning to annoy me.'

Some Places

In some places in the world Goats are irrigation experts and enjoy long lives as engineers building wells and channels made from mud and elephant dung. The Goats take no payment for their toils as they enjoy enriching the lives of small black children such as these.

In other places Goats are wrongly accused of being devil worshippers and are victimized by local Christians and those with learning disabilities.

And I Say to Myself

What a wonderful world.

Fings Proverb of the Day

Better to live one day as a tiger than a thousand years as a sheep.

Trotters Proverb of the Day

The Bigger they are, the harder they fall.

BOY

OH MY GOD I love him so much I could eat him up whole.

TUTZ and her stretchy legs.

Crock revisited

Why is the rainbow on fire?' whispers Trotter.

'I told you not to take that Acid' says Fing.

Kick Arse

I get no kick from champagne
Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all
So tell me why should it be true
That I get a kick out of Trot.

Some get their kicks from cocaine
I'm sure that if I took even one sniff
That would bore me terrifically too,
But I get a kick out of Trot.

Oh I get a kick out of Trot!!!!!

TROTTER!

Patches

We are all long familiar with Trotter and his peculiarities.

When he barks at you when you're eating pizza you give him the crust.

When someone needs to leave the house you feed him cheese.

Friends and family enter the house holding their bags above their heads.

All the cushions need to be on the bench to stop him humping them.

We smile at him fondly when he repeately wanders around the table, time and time again, in a happy yet distracted fashion.

We shout at him loudly when he barks at Thelma and wave his bowl over his head if we need to make him drop something.

So when Trotter suddenly started to calmy lick my leg earlier, slightly below the knee, I didn't think it unusual. As he continued to lick my leg I was suddenly over come with a deep and abiding love the poor, derranged, little man.

It wasn't until I was in the bath that I realised the little bastard had licked off all my fake tan. I look like one of those people with a wierd pigmentation problem. I had better not let him lick my arms or my other leg because I might end up looking like Michael Jackson, but with a nose.

The Sound of Silence

This week Fing has been listening to Nana Mouskouri.

Tutz has been listening to Terror Squad.

Fat Boy Faggot has been listening to Euphoric dance.

Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west, has been listening to Led Zeppelin.

Giggsey Girl, the stupid slug face, has been listening to James Blunt, because she's wierd like that.

Trotter? Trotter has been listening to Abba's greatest hits and singing along all out of tune. But we love him so we don't care.

Ouchy

It was a day of ups and downs for Trotter and Fing yesterday.

An up for Fing, who found a pair of lovely shorts in pri mark for only £1.

A day of downs for Trotter, who went arse over tit on some discarded cabbage leaves outside of Sainsburys.

He has a terribly bruised behind.