My dear friend, who resides with Noddy and his clan, has been having a hard time of it lately.
Firstly, due to some mistaken belief that back in the mists of time OUR nation was saved from disaster at the hands of a bunch of left footers with some explosive ideas, the last weekend has been torture for us hounds.
Here is some canine advice for you bipeds, especially hereabouts:
- Guy was bombing about well before the union of parliaments. This is an ENGLISH matter.
- The date is the 5th of November. It's not the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 9th - delete as required. I mean the ditty wouldn't sound quite right would it, "Remember, remember, the (enter date(s) as required - see point 3), gunpowder, treason and plot."
- Keep it to the 5th you muppets. OK, so a Monday ain't so convenient what with work and all that. I mean Guy what were you thinking of? Especially when you can set off your rockets, squibs, catherine wheels etc. on a Friday/Saturday/Sunday night to the accompaniment of numerous cans of Tennents, bottles of Buckie and Tesco's own vodka. Wouldn't want to miss the opportunity to mix explosives with alcohol would you. Why not move Christmas to the first day with snow, just so you can all sing like Bing.
Turns out it wasn't just the extended festivities that had had her cowering behind the settee like Noddy used to when the Daleks were exterminating some extra on TV. It appears she also has a phantom pregnancy.
Any more of this malarky from you humans and the poor bitch will have a phantom miscarriage.
It's nae real.
© Bumpy Dog
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