How Times Change

A quickie as I have just found out I have an errand to run.

We were watching Dambusters lasr night and it came to the scene where the Wing Commander is told that his labby has been run over outside the gates and is dead.
Therre is a brief moment of silence then the Batman is instructed to bury the lab and W/C gets on with his job of destroying the dams where the water is used to help the German war effort.

Imagine what it would be like now!

The batman would arrive to tell the W/C that Brownie had been run over, W/C would be unable to stifle tears, flowers would be laid at the site of the incident, Brownie’s lead would be framed whilst Brownie itself would be either freeze dried and stuffed or turned into a gem. W/C would be overcome with grief, the dams wouldn’t get bombed, Germany would win the war and we’d all be under the control of Angela Merkel… oh hang on a minute….

But Some People Are Just Batty

A follow up to the story I posted earlier.

On having a shufti through The Currant Bun there’s a full page story on a crackpot dog owner who spends £500 a month to kit herself and pooch out in matching outfits.

Yes she’s female, well you could work that one out for youselves, but most surprisingly she’s a good forty years shy of picking up her pension.

Boggartblog’s resident shrink thinks it could be a case of arrested development, after all little girls are notorious for dressing up anything thet will keep still long enough.

To the young lady in question the shrink has this advice: find yourself a bloke and have a good shag, leaving the dog out of the room.
Although stockings and suspenders are a big turn on for the average male this doesn’t apply, in most cases, when the wearer is one foot high, sports all over body hair and smells of PAL.

To the blokes he says,
“Avoid this one like the plague. A latent bunny boiler if ever there was one.
If you start a relationship with a girl like this not only will she have a pet name for your todger, she’ll be buying little cosies to keep it warm in the winter.”
Colour co-ordinated with your undercrackers obviously.

Dogs Feel The Cold Too – Not

Sometimes you think that perhaps it is time for the world to come to an end, – shame for Kate though who would just be getting over the morning sickness by December 20 oddth.

Out walking yesterday, in rural Barnsley, a place with a strong mining history; think flat caps, whippets and “Trouble at t’pit. Indeed I was walking above the former mine workings where 12 children died in a flash flood in the ventilation shaft they were sheltering in, way back in 1832 or thereabouts.

It was a bright sunny day, chill, obviuosly, but quite warm enough one would have thought for, say, a small dog, with a shaggy coat.

But obviuosly not.

Said pooch was wearing a sheepskin lined puffa jacket – with a red, fleecy lined hood.

A word to my canine friend, piss in her slippers and crap on her bed, that’s if you can work your way out of your doggy onesie.

It’s A Dog’s Life

Everyone I know thinks I’m a bit batty about cats. I talk to them, as if they understand every word I say, a bit like I used to talk to my kids when they were nobbut toddlers. “Now then, what would you like for supper tonight?”
“We don’t really care so long as it’s not namby pamby bloody southern poofter cat food. Hey, you didn’t manage to get the rat out from behind the boiler did you? That would be nicely cured by now.”
Cats welfare takes priority over everybody else’s, for instance, “Mum I think I’ve broken my wrist!”
“Oh OK. Let’s just feed the cats and then I’ll have a look at it!”
Cat’s have first choice on seating.
“Why are you sitting on the floor?”
“Well L.C. was on the sofa and I didn’t want to disturb him.”
However this pales into minor eccentricity compared to some people. A surgeon in Cheshire has commisioned a luxutry kennel for her two Great Danes.
The kennel will boast a jacuzzi, plasma screen T.V., state of the art music system, thermostatically controlled beds and a security gate with retinal scanner. A snip at £1.4 million.
Presumably there will also be a chef on hand to prepare the scooby snacks.
Either that or she’s failed to get planning permission for a second dwelling on her property.

A Deluge of Dodgy Dogs.

Shock! Horror! British Breeds Decimated by Dodgy Dogs screams the banner headline of the Kennel Club newsletter. Or it would if that august publication adopted the journalistic style of the Daily Spurt (we wish).
Instead the Kennel Club editorial has gently bemoaned the fact that many traditional pedigrees are close to extinction because dog owners are opting for new Cool Britannia style multicultural novelty dogs.
Get ready to wave goodbye to the Cardigan Corgi, a chubby, cuddly little dog that likes nothing better than to lounge in a comfy armchair wearing a woollen button up jacket and dunlopillo slippers while smoking a pipe and listening to Radio 4 while homely Mrs Cardigan Corgi in the kitchen decorates a Victoria sandwich for the WI cake stall.
We kid you not.
Shed a tear for the Sealyham, once a favourite of the British middle classes but now being overwhelmed by Parma Ham, Westphalian Ham and even Spanish Chorizo sausage as palates become more cosmopolitan. The Sealyham is in such dire straits it risks being relegated alongside West Ham.
Play The Last Post for the Dandie Dinmont (the WHAT? – yeah, that’s what we thought.) All these breeds are being superseded by designer dogs such as the labradoodle, a labrador / poodle cross, the cockerpoo, a half cocker spaniel, half poodle mutt, the dollie, a mix of dalmatian and collie and the weardie, a West Highland Terrier crossed with a bearded collie.
Boggart Blog is shocked and dismayed that people can create such odd dogs just for the sake of prompting after dinner conversation. But we predict problems. These whacky crossbreeds will be prone to identity crises. How will a lollie (labrador / border collie) know whether it is supposed to be riding in a Range Rover or chasing one.

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