Bath Time Boy

Fat Boy Faggot considers it an imposition to be disturbed during his ablutions.

Tipple

Trotter was very excited when a large box arrived, delivered by a surly delivery man with no Christmas spirit what so ever.

He was, however, very disapointed to discover that the Christmas Hamper was full of neat spirits and that his box full of Bicardi Breezer's, Reef's, and other assorted AlcoPops had not been delivered.

It was at the point that a burly Lulu pushed Trotter out of the way, 'I think you'll find thats mine' she said, took a puff on her Cuban cigar and then made off with the Jack Daniels.

'I think you'll find thats mine' said Fing, who then snuck off with the baileys.

'Actually, i think that might be mine' said Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug Face, hugging the Southern Comfort to her chest.

'And if i'm not mistaken, I think that one must be mine' said Fat boy Faggot, licking his lips as he opens the Malibu.

'PRROOOT!', says Tutz, 'PPRRROOOOTTT', and makes off with the Pernod, as she is, and always will be, completely insane and not to be held responsible for her own actions.

Trotter stared into the empty box and wished his AlcoPops would arrive.

World AIDS Day

I am finding it difficult to think of what to write as everything I say is normally so flippant.

AIDS, obviously, is not a subject for flippant remarks or jokes made in bad taste.

So, in that vein, all I will say is:

'To those that dont, Wear condoms you fucking idiots! Take responsibility for your own life and the lives of others!'

Contemplation

It was with complete and utter delight that Fing happened to stumble across some Worcestershire Sauce flavour Wheat Chrunchies in a small newsagents on St Giles earlier.

He had quite forgotten they existed and was over the moon.

He stopped to consider Monster Munch, had they really been much larger than they are today, or was it just that his paws had got bigger?

Never take

Last night was horrible.

Trotter had some sort of seizure and didn't know who any of us were. He was frightened of us all and wouldn't come for a cuddle. He sat at the top of the stairs and wouldn't speak to anyone, even though Fing, Faggot and Fizzgigg tried their hardest by weaving their stupid slinky bodies around his and miaowing in his face.

It got so bad we wanted to take him to our vet, Mr Gore, but he advised us to leave him to his own devises and see how he was in the morning, 'He is, after all' he said 'a very unusual little dog'.

He didn't come to until this morning, after a night of shivering and unhappiness.

I sat and stroked him and suddenly he looked at me and it was like the mist was gone from his mind and he suddenly wagged his tail and grumbled at me then went to lick Faggot on the head.

A bit of a lesson never to take anything for granted I think.

Quiet night out

As you are aware we live on a very noisy estate full of unexpected and unusual sounds, if it isn't the pets singing carols, or Andre making his penthouse kennel for Hercules, Uncle Ernie on his motorized wheelchair or Varne and I coming home drunk, then it's something else.

Sometimes, in fact a lot of the times, the noise can stem from youths who tend to loiter indiscriminately and clutter up our street corners. Having no set bed time, curfew, or a desire to wake up the next morning, they can be outside well past half past 9 most evenings.

Until recently the estate has put up with the rapping, shrieking and general noisiness of the youths, but not any longer.

Oh no, Mrs Warboise has snapped!

She has taken to leaving the house in her long white nightie and dressing gown and floating towards the indiscriminate youths with menaces in her eyes.

The indiscriminate youths, who may be young but are not foolish, have taken to scarpering with apologies tumbling from their mouths.

Rock on Mrs Warboise!

Quiet night in

'Silent Night Holy Night
All is Calm All is Bright,
Round yon virgin Mother and Child
Holy infant so tender and mild

Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly Peace'

Sings Trotter, practising his solo piece for the Carol Concert from the top of the stairs.

'Silent Night Holy Night
Son of God Oh loves pure light
Radiant beams from thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace
Jesus Lord at Thy birth...Oh Jesus Lord at Thy birth'

He can hear a muted noise in the background which he takes to be applause so increases his volume for the final verse!

'Sleep
Sleep
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace'

Tragically it is not applause but an angry mob outside with pitchforks and burning effigy's who are shouting, 'HOW THE FUCK ARE WE SUPPOSED TO SLEEP WITH THAT RACKET GOING ON?'

'Heathen's' sniffs Fing in disdain, peering out of the bathroom window.

Formal Apology

We at Trotter and Fing would like to make a formal apology to Rez, from Cuddesdon, who we have formally referred to as Res.

We did not intend to cause insult or injury by the misspelling and hope your viewing pleasure hasn't been impaired.

Trotter

Trotter

A dog for all seasons.

The Oracle at Delphi

Fing knows the meaning of everything, life, the universe, pork scratchings, everything.

If you look deep into his beautiful eyes you will find the answer. That or feel compelled to feed him.

It can work either way for me.

Today is the day that is

Lulu is guarding something in the bedroom. We don't know what and with every probability, she probably doesn't know either.

Faggot is laying in the bath on a towel that Marth puts there for him every morning.

Tutz is playing boules underneath the bed.

Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face is doing jury service in the crown court and is currently listening in on a very interesting fraud case. She has decided to find the man guilty as she finds his appearance very distasteful and is irritated by his ingratiating subservient manner.

Hercules is looking at his unfinished kennel with longing through the back door, it would be finished apart from the fact that some arsehole complained about the banging and a drilling in the dark and Andre has been forced to down tools.

At the pub Captain Jack and Lucas by Day (Duncan by Night) have a new exercise routine. They have a new treadmill and are taking it in turns to run whilst watching old Catherine Tate DVD's.

Tiny Margo has driven her Lamborghini to Biscester Village and is shopping for a new beaded collar and a satin jacket to keep out the cold.

Lou and Res are at Whittenham Clumps, just for a change, and are admiring the view of the Oxfordshire country side.

Ginge is asleep on his favourite blanket next to the attractive singing lobster that Uncle Ernie purchased for Varne from the Antique Market.

Trotter has made a comfy place for himself on the landing by dragging my dressing gown out of my bedroom and rouching it into an attractive heap by the bathroom door.

Fing, having no respect or care for the feeling of others, has pissed in it, and left it there to upset Trotter later.

Little bastard.

Together

We go together like
rama lama lama
ke ding a de dinga a dong
remembered for ever like
shoo bop shoo wadda wadda yipitty boom de boom

Chang chang chang-it-ty chang
shoo-bop
That's the way it should be
Wha oooh yeah!

We're one of a kind
Like dip di-dip di-dip
Doo-bop a doo-bee doo
Our names are signed
Boog-e-dy boog-e-dy boog-e-dy
boog-e-dy
Shoo-by doo-wop she-bop
Chang chang chang-it-ty chang
shoo-bop

We'll always be like one
Wa-wa-wa-waaa!

Ra-ma la-ma la-ma ka ding a da ding de dong
Shoo-bop sha wad-da wad-da yipp-it-y boom de boom
Chang chang chang-it-ty chang shoo-bop
Dip da-dip da-dip doo-wop da doo-bee doo
Boog-e-dy boog-e-dy boog-e-dy boog-ed-y
Shoo-by doo-wop she-bop
Sha-na-na-na-na-na-na-na yip-pit-y boom de boom
Ra-ma la-ma la-ma ka ding-a de ding de dong
Shoo-bop sha wad-da wad-da yipp-it-y boom de boom
Chang chang chang-it-ty chang shoo-bop
Dip da-dip da-dip doo-wop da doo-bee doo
Boog-e-dy boog-e-dy boog-e-dy boog-e-dy
shoo-by doo-wop she-bop
Sha-na-na-na-na-na-na-na yip-pit-ty boom de boom

A wop ba-ba lu-mop

A wop bam boom

28 days, later

The pets had an enormously exciting shopping spree and loaded up the trolley with boxes of Turkish delight, sets of smellies from Boots, slipper socks and all the other weird shit that you can only find at Christmas and no one really needs.

They decided that a little pat on the back was the order of the day so popped into HaHa and accidentally discovered that all bottles of wine and most cocktails were a 3rd off which was a recipe for disaster to be fair.

They staggered home, 2 hours later, having completely forgotten they were supposed to be buying a Chinese for everyone. When they did, eventually get home and looked at all they had bought, they realised it really wasn't all that much after all and were left feeling slightly tarnished by the whole affair.

28 days before

Fing is taking the other pets Christmas Shopping today. The other pets are very very excited.

Trotter is stood expectantly by the front door in his favourite woolly scarf and hat, wagging his tail. Tutz and Giggsey are in the shopping trolley, Faggot has a cashmere scarf and a Prada bag over one shoulder and Lulu is bringing up the rear in a lovely tartan jacket.

Fing has everyone's pocket money firmly in his grasp and they set off towards Primark singing the Pogues 'Fairytale', can you hear them?

'You scumbag, you maggot, you cheap lousy faggot' sing the cats in purrrfect harmony

'Happy Christmas you arse, I pray god it's your last!!!!' sing the dogs.

Oh, how we love Christmas

Sting!

Its awful having a great big itchy sneeze up your nose that just wont go away.

Unfortunately Captain Jack happened to mention this aloud while Lucas by day (Duncan by Night) was having a lucid moment.

'I have heard', say Lucas by day (Duncan by night) that if you have a nasty itchy sneeze up your nose, that sniffing black pepper will help it to come out', then became distracted by absolutelty nothing at all and went to wag his tail whilst standing with his head to one side, looking expectantly into the corner of the room.

Why Captain Jack decided to listen to the words of of a dog who spends the best part of his day chasing shadows and looking at walls we will never know.

Poor Captain Jack.

FISH

Did you know that every year in December European Ministers meet to try and decide who can fish what from where, they make these decisions despite warnings from the scientific community that fishing should be suspended for fish stocks to recover.

For the past five years the International Council for the Exploration of the Sea (ICES) have advised that no cod should be fished from UK waters, so that populations have a chance to recover.

But since this advice was first issued in 2001, 437,000 tonnes of cod have been taken from the North Sea alone, leaving the population at one third the minimum safe level.

Scandalously, every year tens of thousands of tonnes of fish are thrown back into the sea, dead or dying, by fisherman targeting other fish species.

Over half of North Sea cod are simply discarded overboard because they are too small.

And it's not just cod. Numbers of adult fish across many of Europe's fish stocks are just 10% of what they were 30 years ago.*

(of course in Iceland, the whales are to blame for the decrease in the fish stock, it has nothing what so ever to do with the idiot fishermen at all, but I digress)

So anyway - please can you log on to

http://wwf.org.uk/stopoverfishing

And take a couple of minutes to send an email to the secretary of state asking him, politely, to put his fucking foot down and do not give in the the whinging, whining fishermen and do something about this.

Before its too late.

*Info from the WWF website

Beyond Measure

People ask me how much I love Fing,

'How much do you love Fing?', they say

I love Fing so much, I reply, that when he pisses into my beautiful, BEAUTIFUL, brand new red shoes that I laugh, wash them, then put them on the shelves like some random ornaments to dry, and when I still can't get the smell out I borrow Milan's cedar shoe tree's and force them into my ruby slippers to try to get the smell out and even though nothing has worked and the piss has taken some of the coulour out, becuase I love them so much, I keep them on top of my wardrobe with the shoe tree's in in the vain, stupid hope that one day, one day, I will be able to wear them again.

Thats one fuck of a lot of love my friends.

Unmeasurable

Some people have asked me how much I love Trotter.

'How much do you love Trotter?' they say.

I love him so much, I reply, that I do not mind when he sits on my bare feet and his little hairy testicles nestle against my skin.

Thats a lot of love my friends.

Social Housing

There have been bangings on the estate of late, in the darkness.

Bangings, and drillings and sawing, all under cover of the night.

We all wondered what it could be that was causing the bang and drill and complained about the noisiness of the entire affair, we stood in our windows with nosy neighbour syndrome and twitched our nets in a dissatisfied way.

But last night all was revealed as Andre finally proudly uncovered Hercules new delux hand built kennel to stunned estate.

The kennel is 6feet tall and then four by four.It has a raised floor with underfloor heating, it has satelite TV and a jacuzzi for Hercules bitches (when he gets older of course).

Martha was so impressed by the kennel she asked Andre if there was any possibility that she could use it as her retirement bungalow, but I don't think Hercules will want to share.

Still

Trotter had a break from the old routine and tried calmness last night.

He stood quietly and looked at us.

He sat with inner peace and meditated.

He listened to whale songs and considered the power of crystals.

At bedtime he was tranquil and didn't bark at the doors.

All in all it was rather unsettling and we kept on asking if he was ok, as it was decidedly peculiar, especially if you consider that he has been on his hot line to the devil for the last week.

Why?

Have I told you that Fing has taken to waking me up just before 6am every morning?

I can only wonder at his motives and reasons.

Then, If I knew the reasons and motives behind all his odd behavioural patterns I could probably become a famous cat psychologist and travel the world persuading illmanned and unrepentant cats to behave in a seemly and pleasant manner.

Of course, the other option is that he's an artifact of an alien intelligence sent here to test me.

If so the aliens must think the worlds a totally fucked up place.

Time and a place

Dogs do to not like it when humans play ball games without them.

There are places in the world where Dogs have become quite militant about this and have taken to forcing their way into pool halls and clambering onto the pool table.

Once on the table they like to show their dissatisfaction by barking at would be competitors and by licking their testicles in an openly defiant manner.

Dragon

Can you tell what it is yet?

Dark or Light?

There is a real Christmas Spirit in the house and it's not the ghost of Christmas Past, Oh No!

In the kitchen Martha is furiously chopping dried fruits and making chutney in a frenzy, a large pot of simmering slop oozes over the top and the whole house smells of cloves and cinnamon.

In the sitting room the pets are practising their carols, they will be performing at the Royal Albert Hall on the 14Th December. Tickets are already sold out as they are the 'World Famous Preachers Lane Pet Choir' after all. Today they are practising the Calypso Carol but unfortunately Trotter keeps on getting the lyrics wrong,

'Concentrate Trotter!' snaps an irritated Fing, 'Its 'See him a lying on a bed of straw, a drafty stable with an open door, Mary cradling the babe she bore, the prince of glory is his name'

'But the prince of darkness sounds much more fun', sulks Trotter.

Do Androids dream of Electric Cats?

Tutz lies asleep on top of the NTL box, warm and cozy, dreaming psychedelic dreams of pandemonium and chaos.

Inside her tiny mind she floats in big multicoloured bubbles over unusual landscapes made of giant scratchy poles and lollipops.

She sees giant bumblebees and dragon flies, blamange in the shape of pink rabbits, she sees drums and briefly, Snoop Dog Dog floats by on a magic carpet.

Suddenly she is tap dancing in ruby slippers, then belly dancing next to a blue elephant wearing a sequined dress, then she is wind surfing in the lake district.

She wakes up slowly and stretches, opens her eyes and finds Trotter standing looking at her.

Some things are just as insane awake as when you are dreaming.

War

In the Second World War it is estimated that 60 million people died, or which 6 million were Jews.

The Allied forces fought for 6 years in order to stop fascism taking over the world, in order that we might have freedom of speech, freedom of expression, freedom of religion. Freedom to be the people that we want to be.

From the Allied forces the United kingdom lost 306213 servicemen, Australia 29395, Canada 39319, China 1324516, India 36092, New Zealand 12612, The United States 297723 and the former Soviet Union 13 million.

Today is the day that we remember the sacrifice of the men and women of the armed services, who have no say in which battles they will fight, in which one they will be wounded or in which they might die.

We at Trotter and Fing wear our poppies with pride.

Pedigree's but not as we know it

Introducing Tom and Dexter.

The Moiwitch Cuckoo's.

Joy

'God rest ye Merry Gentleman' sings Trotter from the top of the stairs, 'May nothing you dismayyyyyyyyy',

'Remember Christ our saviour was born on Christmas day' Sings Giggsey Girl the stupid Slug face from on top of the TV,

'To save our souls from Satan's power' Sings Lulu from the kitchen doorway,

'When we were gone astray' sings Fat Boy Faggot from the bathroom,

'PPPRRROOOT' harmonises Tutz from the bedroom on her scratchy pole,

'OH TIDINGS OF COMFORT AND JOY', They all sing together as Fing conducts, waving a tiny baton in the hallway, 'Comfort and Joy, OHHH TIDINGS OF COMFORT AND JOYYYYYY!!!'

When you're part of the world famous Preachers Lane Pet Choir you've got to practise early!

Industrious

Fing has has a very busy night.

Once again he got into the food cupboard and hooked out the dog Iams, leaving a cascade on the floor. This time we have an interesting twist as Trotter went downstairs to see what the noise was and bought the bag of Iams back to bed for a midnight feast.

The small grainy nuggets that he missed were to be found by Martha when she woke up, embedded in the backs of her legs and up her nose.

'FING!' she cried in despair.

But Fing had remained in the cupboard, where with sheer brute force and bloody ignorance, had forced the lid off the tupperwear container filled with cat biscuits and had gorged until he was almost as fat as a boa constrictor full of sheep.

So fat that he fell asleep and stayed in the cupboard where Martha found him by accident when she went in for a tea bag.

'FING!' she screamed.

Sometimes I wonder what we have done to deserve all of this naughtiness.

Hasn't that cat always had everything he always wanted?

Manicures and peticures, dancing lessons and trips to Vienna?

He did want a copy of the National Dictionary of the National Biography but we had to put our feet down somewhere.

Ok Corral

'Did you know' Said Trotter to Fing, ' That on this day in 1887, Doc Holliday died?'

'who was Doc Holliday?' asks Fing in surprise,

'Why, ' says Trotter, 'Doc Holliday was a gentleman sir'

Palmolive or Sanctuary?

Fat Boy Faggot choosing which bubble bath to have in his bath.

3 days

Its been a few days of Uppers, Downers and all arounders to be honest.

Saturday dawned cold and bright and found Trotter and Fing visiting a poorly Shane in Hospital. They sat on his bed and made him laugh, they pushed him around in a wheelchair but were forced to stop for fear it might induce vomiting. They then sat and watched the South Park firework display and 'ooohhhhhh'd' and 'aaahhhhhh'd' in all the appropriate places. They popped into the pub on the way home and ended up going clubbing at Cloud 9 before returning home and collapsing exhausted.

On Sunday Martha noticed one of the goldfish swimming upside down in the pond and decided that he must immediately be removed and placed in a bright orange bucket on the draining board. With Stuarts help she dismantled a pump and placed it in the bucket, which kind of created a Jacuzzi effect and left the poor fish hurtling around the bucket like he was caught in some hideous 100 miles an hour whirlpool. I managed to persuade Martha that this may be a little strong, so she switched it off and went and got Asia. Asia, it transpires, is the local authority on goldfish and came bearing swim bladder medicine, a smaller pump, and portents of doom. We would, she advised, best not get our hopes up, dashed some medicine in the bucket and left us all feeling rather pessimistic as we stared at the goldfish, upside down and still revolving in his bucket.

Later that night an assortment of youths landed on the estate from an alternate, hoody, reality and let fireworks off just outside Varne's. Martha went out full of concern for Hercules, but the Youths told her to Fuck off, then lit some squibs in open defiance. The fireworks were not well received by Lulu or Tutz. Tutz spent the entire evening in the airing cupboard while Lulu tried to drown out the fireworks by barking as loudly as she could.

Monday found the goldfish the right way up but with nose pressed against the pump like an oxygen junkie. We borrowed a tank from Authority Asia, and popped him in there instead, where he took to sucking pebbles and sudden bursts of speed.

Much later Fing and I went to bed where we started to watch Braveheart. I had forgotten Fings aversion to the Scottish, and so was a little surprised when he got off his pillow and went for a sleep in the airing cupboard. Sometime later there was a rattling from downstairs. Fing, bored of the airing cupboard, had gone downstairs, opened the cupboard and deliberately tipped the dog Iams all over the floor. Not content with this he also opened all the other cupboard doors to see if there was any more mischief to be had, none found he came back upstairs and stared at me with a steely glare until I was forced to switch off Mel Gibheart and lay down and give him a cuddle.

Today it is Tuesday and I don't know what the pets are up too. I would imagine that most of the cats are asleep, Trotter will be sat at the bottom off the stairs waiting for Martha to come home and Lulu will be watching a crap film on channel 5, or looking for new cake recipe's or some such jazz.

Grim

The news this week has been grim indeed.

No fish in the worlds oceans within the next 40 years.

The worlds oceans to rise, displacing 40 million people.

No water to drink.

All the worlds animals will die.

Will it make a difference if you recycle? Will it matter if you remember to switch off all your electrical appliances when you are not using them?

It will, but probably not in your lifetime.

I don't have any children, but I have a niece and I would like her to grow up in a world where there are Polar Bears and Penguins, Gorillas and Chimpanzee's, Giraffes and Hyena's, Whales and Dolphins. In a World where people are not warring over water or where millions of people have no where to live.

So, if all of us just do one thing.

Switch off the plugs, recycle empty bottles, if all of us did one thing then maybe there will be a beautiful world left behind for our children, whether they be son's or daughter's, niece's or nephew's, God Children or the Children next door.

We at TrotterandFing are going to stop eating fish from non-sustainable sources.

Remember, Cod made us in his own image.

Percy Thrower

'PPRRROOOTTTT!!!' She says! 'PPRRROOOTTTTT'! Yes, I'm afraid that teeny, tiny, insane Tutz has escaped, unsupervised, into the garden.

She stands beside the metal cat and pretends to be unnoticed.

She watches Selby the squirrel hide some nuts in the rubbish heap from her watching place on top of the gazebo, then after he has gone, digs them up and hides them elsewhere.

She sits by the side of the pond and watches the fish with a professionally disinterested eye, then dips an idle paw into the water on the offchance that a fish will be stupid enough not to notice her enourmous orange eyes, millometres away from the water, peering in. Unfortunately for Tutz, all the fish are member's of Mensa, and are discussing philosophy with the fresh water mussels who live in the weed at the bottom of the pond.

No fun there she thinks and sits on top of the rubbish heap watching the world go by.

She practises some bunny hops, she persuades Selby to play hopscotch, she sleeps for a while in the sunny place underneath the bench by the window.

She 'ppprrroootttts' to herself softly as she potters around in the garden, and if she is feeling brave, the ground beneath Thelma's bush that lays just outside the fence. But she doesn't go too far in case the mean stripy cat that lives across the way spots her and steals her pocket money. She hates the stripy cat.

When she is exhausted of the day she sits on top of the trellis and waits for someone to come home so that she can play her favourite game of all, pretending that she wants to be let in. She sits and waits, as patient as the Sphinx.

Why?

I was lucky the other day, in so much that when I picked up my umbrella, which had been left open and upside down by the side of the mop bucket by Stuart the night before, that I happened to notice a small spillage of urine to the side.

Had I of just whisked it up over my head and opened it I would have been showered with Trotters urine, but as I say, I was lucky this time.

Unlike the time that Martha's waterproof jacket was lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs and I grabbed it intending to hang it up and got covered from head to toe by the pool of cats pee that had been nestleing unnoticed on top of it.

That time I stood there for a moment, as the pee dripped off the end of my nose and wondered what, exactly, i'd done to deserve this life.

Mines a chocolate eyeball

There was great excitement as the Pets prepared for Halloween, the biscuits were baked, the pumpkins carved and filled with candles and the Trick or Treat? sweets all ready in the bowl.

Fing had agreed that he would stay at home and dispense the sweets so that the others could go out in fancy dress.

Tutz was dressed as a tiny pumpkin, grey face and big yellow eyes staring out for underneath a little orange and green bonnet.

Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest Dog in the West, was dressed as a spider, with 4 extra legs poking out the side.

Trotter, of course, was DRACULE!!! and had his favourite cape and false vampire teeth in.

Fat Boy Faggot was dressed as a zombie and had covered himself in face paints and was a rather unattractive mottled green and grey.

Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug face has wrapped herself in lengths and lengths of bandages and was a Mummy.

And so they went out and knocked on doors and shouted 'TRICK OR TREAT' when people opened the doors, they said 'Thank you very much' when they were given sweets then raced on to the next house full of high spirits and happiness.

At home Fing endured the constant knocking and the shouts of 'TRICK OR TREAT!' secure in the knowledge that every treat was in fact a trick, as he had pissed in the biscuit mixture when Lulu wasn't watching, because, after all, that's just the sort of bastard that he is.

Happy Happy Halloween!

There is an air of great excitement in the house as the Pets prepare for Halloween.

Tutz and Giggsey Girl, the stupid slug face are carving pumpkins. Tutz's pumpkin is elaborately carved into a series of witches on broomsticks, Giggsey's is a traditional leering gap toothed smiling face.

Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west, is baking cookies in the shape of bats.

Fat Boy Faggot is preparing bags of sweets for the trick or treaters, and long chains of popcorn on string to hang around the house.

Trotter is putting up his own stylishly designed 'Trotwear' decorations, which look like they have been created by a mad axeman and are all a bit unsettling, avant garde, and a bit harsh upon the eye. Trotter hopes that all the small children will be suitably impressed by them, but the other pets can't help but think that they are so discordant they may bring on a brain hemorrage.

Fing would like to wish everyone a very Happy Samhain, and wishes you all the best for the New Year.

Friends from around the world

This is a Kinjkajou called Bob who lives deep in the South American rainforest.

He works as an insurance salesman by day and at night can be found forraging for flowers, nuts and berries for his family of 3.

This is his son, Iscariot.

Irrational

Trotter is lying on the sofa in a big pile of cushions, his bandaged head is throbbing and he has an ice pack on it.

The rest of the pets are all stood, shame faced, in the hallway as a very stern Fing tells them off for their naughtiness.

'We didn't know he would fall off', sulks Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face.

'HE HAS BRAIN DAMAGE AND IS BLIND IN ONE EYE, HOW COULD HE STAY ON?' shouts an irate Fing.

Sting

Fing is now in the kitchen wrapping a large white bandage around Trotters head.

The rest of the pets are hiding in case they get in trouble.

Mid Morning

Fing is having brunch.

He is sitting at the table eating a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel, he has a cup of freshly ground coffee and is reading the morning papers.

Meanwhile, Giggsey Girl, the stupid slug face, is trying to teach Trotter how to walk the tight-rope in the kitchen while the other pets cheer from the hall.

'are you sure this is safe?' ask's Trotter from the side

'100%' says Giggsey Girl, the stupid slug face.

Morning Neighbour

Fing has made all the pets their favourite breakfast's.

For Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west, he has made waffles and smothered them in maple syrup and whipped cream. As a side he has provided a samll fruit salad but doubts it will be eaten.

Trotter is having weetabix with warm milk.

Giggsey Girl, the stupid slug face is having wholemeal bread with Philadelphia and marmite on it, after this she will have a mullerlite and possibly a banana.

Fat Boy Faggot is tackling with some museli and is in the bathroom, reading the independent.

Tutz is on her scratchy pole eating a full English breakfast, comprised of bacon, sausages, black pudding, fried egg, beans, tomatoes and fried bread. Being insane 24/7 uses up quite a lot of energy I'll have you know.

Fing himself does not take breakfast, he prefers a strong black coffee and will have a little something at brunch.

42

What is Trotter thinking about?

Is he thinking about quantum physics?

No, he is not.

Is he thinking about the Bermuda triangle and the unexplained disappearance of boats, ships and planes?

No, he is not.

Is he thinking about why Neon flickers?

No, I'm afraid not.

Trotter is thinking about becoming a stuntman.

He wants to drive cars dangerously, and jump from tall buildings in a parachute! He wants to ride horse's bareback and be blown out of cannons and beat the land speed record and whizz around in speedboats.

Failing that he might go for a poo in Chengi's garden.

He just can't decide.

New Horizons

Like his companion, Captain Jack, Lucas by day (Duncan by night) likes to utilise the furniture in unusual ways.

Sometimes he practises perching precariously like a pterodactyl on the poof.

Shiny boots of Leather

Sometimes, If I am terribly bored, I like to polish the cats with bee's wax.

As you can see they come up quite a treat.

Christ Alive!

Sometimes when Lulu wakes up she scares me.

Reality show

Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug Face is sometimes so exhausted that she has to lay on top of the TV and try to watch it upside down.

Its no wonder that she's all a bit cross eyed and fucked in the head really, is it?

Sleepy head

Sometimes Trotter gets bored of being a maniac and likes to rest his weary bones.

He wishes sometimes that he wasn't so jam packed, full, of naughtiness, because perhaps then it wouldn't escape so often and get him into trouble.

He wishes he didn't feel compelled to bark at the shopping trolley.

He can only dream of not being over taken by a mad desire to hump cushions.

A forlorn hope that he didn't have to shred standard lamps and pull up bushes surfaces briefly beofre sinking without a trace.

Oh, its hard being Trotter.

Poor Trotter.

Guest Pet of The Week - Milly

Milly

Likes: Chewing small bits of wood, lazing by the fire and eating Honey Roast Glazed Hams - whole.

Dislikes: Being wet and Anne Robinson

Age: Unknown

Distinguishing features: Small lump of black fluff with dangerously rabid eyes

Habits and Problem Behaviours: Prone to backcombing her hair and singing along to Tina Turner, hogging the fire and belching in front of guest's.

Mothers gone to

And while i'm ranting, what the bloody hell is going on in Iceland?

Apparently its Ok to hunt critically endangered animals- lets look at the dictionary definition of that shall we?

An endangered animal is one that 'is present in such small numbers that it is at risk of extinction'

Therefore a 'Critically endangered animal' is an animal that faces an extremely high risk of extinction in the immediate future.

WAY TO GO ICELAND! Lets kill off an entire species so your stupid, lousy fishermen, who are themselves entirely responsible for the depletion of the fish stocks in their fishing grounds, have a job to do. But guess what? When all the whales are dead, i'll bet you'll find that there are no fish left anyway.

Biodiversity means that no animal overbreeds and puts its eco system in danger.

Man is the only animal that does so.

Please take the time to send a message to the Icelandic Government on the Greenpeace website:

http://www.oceans.greenpeace.org/en/stop-icelandic-whaling

Golddigga

Apparently in their short relationaship, Sir Paul McCartney, much loved National Institution, musical genious, animal rights activist etc, was accused by his estranged wife, the cripple, Heather Mills, of brutally attacking her on several occaisions, once with a broken wine glass.

Fuck me, If i'd of been him I would probably of clubbed her round the back of her head with her false leg until she was dead.

If only we were in medieval times.

We could have burnt her at the stake as the money grabbing witch that she is.

Lucas by Day, Duncan by night?

He says

'If it's not too much trouble, please can you fix my antenna because i'm not hearing the voices in my head very clearly today.'

And Trotter? What did Trotter say!

Trotter said

'Would you please hurry up and get ready and take me for a walk?'

Because he's very polite like that.

And what do you think she said?

She said

'Would you not fuck off, can't you see i'm sucking a lemon?'

Do you know what he said?

He said

'Would you not get that fucking camera out of my face?'

Lulu

Its bloody depressing being Lulu when the only images you can find are of that gobby singer from Scotland.

She sighs.

Murder she drove

Have I ever told you that Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face drives a lada with personalised number plates?

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!