The Blog Kitten—MISSING!!
‘Tis I-The Blog Dog!
I speak to you today,Constant Reader,in a state of some agitation,and not a little preturbation.
(Is that a word?)
This very morn,upon waking from a shit-hot dream involving Bettany Hughes,Eva Mendes and a tub of swarfega,I rolled over in my 5-poster bed to greet the dawn and my beloved,Deidre, with a snuggle and a kiss,and to possibly try a few things I’d worked out in my dream.
(Eww)
Imagine,then,my horror as I beheld my beloved,who was conspicuous by her absence.
Gone.
Now this was not really that unusual,as it is part of our pre-nuptial agreement that Deidre should be up before I wake in order to get the tea on,so I was not unduly alarmed.I slipped on my yeti-skin dressing gown and griffin-hide slippers and sauntered into the kitchenette,to be greeted with a sight of abject,screaming horror,the like of which I had never before encountered,and no married man should have to endure….
…the teapot wasn’t even on the hob.
Searching around for Deidre in order to remonstrate with her and to extract a reason as to why my morning cup of Earl Grey was,as yet,merely theoretical,I came swiftly to the conclusion that she was,as my Latin teacher used to say,non adest.
To whit,buggered off.
Not a soul in sight.
This was,as the Ameriyanks say,an “issue.”
Not only would I have to make my own tea AND breakfast,I’d have to most likely feed the piranhas AND go and whip the students in the dungeon.
This was not on.
The Blog Dog,as you know,has no time for the trivial matters of existence….for the Blog Dog is a roisterer,a rodgerer,a puker and a gorger-a shafter of time and space.
The Blog Dog cannot save the universe twice over whilst making his own cornflakes.Simple as that.
I trotted,stressed,onto the platform of my secret London Underground lair,cunningly disguised as Mornington Crescent,to see if maybe Deidre was polishing the third rail or something;it was possible that she had got her chore shcedule arse-backwards.
I was about to enter that state of mind known as the “hissy fit” when I spotted it…although how such an abomination came to be in my residence,I knew not,nor dared to wonder.
Plastered to the far wall was a poster of…..David Tennant.
You will know,Constant Reader,that normally I would not even debase myself to cleanse my lower extremities with such a tawdry piece of stationery,so how it came to be here was a mystery,wrapped up in an enigma,then sodomised by a “what the fuck?”
The third-rate actor who got lucky was gurning horrifically from the poster,but this was not the worst thing assaulting my retinas at this moment…there was more.
Someone had added a speech bubble which emanated from the vicintiy of his gruesome visage…these very words of horror chilled me to the bone:
HOOTS MON,YE WEE DOGGY BASTARD!!!
YE WEE WIFEY AND I ARE VERY MUCH IN LOVE,AND WE HAVE ELOPED TO GRETNA GREEN WHERE WE GAN GET MARRIED!
(Rubbish Scottish accent)
I know…bless him he hasn’t worked in ages,it’s probably affected his mind.Anyway back to the action…
DEIDRE SAYS YE CAN CLEAN YOUR OWN THIRD RAIL,YE WEE SASSENACH BUM-SNIFFER !!
P.S I’M THE BEST DOCTOR WHO EVER!!!!
P.P.S SO THERE !!!
P.P.P.S TOM BAKER IS RUBBISH!!!
The horror…the horror.
Dumped for Doctor Who…and not even one of the good ones.
Mother-appreciator.
So this is how you now find The Blog Dog,my Constant Reader…Deidre-less,tea-less and very possibly custard-cream-less.And even worse than that…I’ve got a fucking David Tennant poster on my wall.
What will my guests think ??
I suppose I’ll have to take it down myself ,too.
(Aw bless)
I’ve still got you,dear Rizla, my faithful retainer…my wife has left me for a has-been,my reputation is in tatters….and I haven’t had a cuppa for hours,put the kettle on would you-
-OI! Come back you sod !!!
Shit.
TROPICAL MOMENTS 