
I am not sure about your town, but in Whitehaven, there is dog shit everywhere. Spread over town like icing on a cake. Paths, grass, streets, parks, piles of it. You can see it. You can smell it. You can slide on it. And in this cold weather, there is frozen shit everywhere, delicately frosted in situ. Enough is enough!
I am not blaming the dogs. Responsibility lies firmly with their disgusting, degenerate owners. It’s time we take DNA samples from all dogs and enter them into a database so we can catch these disgusting, boggle-eyed dog owners and fine them, or organize summary on-the-spot executions of these donkey-brained eejits. Better still, let’s create big tanks of all the dog shit we have to scrape up and put dog owners in it so they can live like they really want to. People are the problem, not the dogs. Clean it up, folks – bag it! It ain’t difficult, it ain’t challenging, it ain’t expensive – you can manage to clean up dog shit without a Ph.D. education.
Froggy
kisses
People are a bastard and dating is a bastard. So far of the 7 billion people on this great big spinning ball of shite I have only found, say 6 or so, that I am able to tolerate for any period of time. Two of them were on life support and I just had to sit with them and hold their hand. Even that became mildly annoying because I couldn’t reach out and eat the Milk Tray sitting just feet away; still, one moves on. It feels like I have dated all 7 billion people and on that front, I have not found a single one that cuts the mustard. The closest I came to finding my perfect partner was the one who was sporting a grand collection of customer loyalty cards; Starbucks, McDonald’s, Burton’s Menswear, Easy Jet you name it there was a points and bonus card for it. But I had ideas above my station and I had the audacity to want more.



