Mung, says Rover

End daily 'not-sure-what-woof-woof-is-in-Vietnamese' misery by looking here. I found it a mine of useful information, especially when I attend dinner-dances with a dog what I have been set up with.

And another thing: who likes trampolines? I like them as much as the next man but why do some adoring parents put ones the size of the West Riding smack bang next to your garden fence? One might be tempted to cut the bungee cables one moonless night and, the next day, watch Tarquin and Beewing bounce once and then bounce no more.

Serves me right for having a nice garden, elitist imperialist running dog. Ao-Ao.

Don't Tell him Pike...

Is one of my favouritest rejoinders. That and what Churchill says when a society dame accuses him of being drunk.
Also, another morning of bipolar activity in the office has just passed with a pretty good chance of a similar afternoon to follow. The intensity of work fluctuates madly: there are long periods of mind-numbing boredom when one's eyelids are just so heavy and hot and leaden, and then just when your head is about to slam onto your keyboard and print a line of b's a mile long, your boss phones and asks you if you ever did 'x'. As you say impatiently, "Yes, of course I did...", the horrible realisation that you didn't dawns and the sweating and stammering starts and mental pictures of penury, workhouses and ragged children crying over a coffin start to flash by. When you have a memory as bad as mine, these things can happen and it turns out you did do 'x' after all so everything is OK but the boss is a little shaken and he has to tell his boss that he was misinformed etc etc which is about as exciting as things get around here.

All Gordon's talk about social inclusion and Being Nice To Everyone has given those zany guys at Dorset County Council an idea: some wonk decided that it might be a giggle to ask the local learning difficulties posse to write themselves a Bill of Rights, in an open, honest and non-judgmental way of course. Among the surprises were the freedom to have 'relations' with whoever they want, whenever convenient. I hope this is consensual - I don't want to be jumped on by anyone with one GCSE pass thank you very much, even if it is in biology (unless she's a Kylie body-double maybe). They also wanted to protest their inalienable human right to something called "Adulthood" which, if they are over 18, they have got whether they want it or not. It's all about 'respect' isn't it? Sadly those who demand it most are the ones who least deserve it. A propos of absolutely nothing, weren't the clouds lovely yesterday? The little wispy commas and hooks of high-flying, fast-moving cirrus fibratus are still called 'angels hair' by some. They are really clouds of ice you know, dropping their cargo in a haze, hence the wispiness.

*Cor, it's bright in here*, he said squinting into the light...

Hmmm... this looks suspiciously as if I know what I am doing. Anyway, welcome traveller. Now that I have become a blogger of the realm, the first step for me is to go out and get a life then I'll have something interesting to tell you. I'll pop by occasionally to update you on the latest idiocy spawned by the wonks in the company I work for. Pip pip.