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Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.
Hey there my good disciples, how y’all doing? Have you missed me? Of course you have! That turtle-neck sweater factory at the end of your road, I trust that it’s still keeping you awake at night as it churns out the old turtles non-stop? Or Turts as I like to call them. For those that don’t know, I had a trust fund setup in my name before I died. And when I say ‘died’ I actually mean ‘shot by that man on the grassy knoll’. Anyway, this fund was set up to ensure that there is enough cash to keep them factories ticking over so that there will be an ample supply of Turts for me when I return. And when I say ‘return’, I actually mean ‘immaculate resurrection’.
And why wouldn’t I want to return? It’s kind of stuffy up here sometimes and the bearded bloke who goes around telling people off is getting on my tits. He has a really weird name as well, something like ‘Dog’.
A while ago I had the neat idea of getting a drama group going so we could put on some shows for all the unhappy souls that end up here. I had this amazing idea for a play where I was this wise leader in a country known as ‘Few’ and I had the title of The King of the Fews. The play had a dramatic climax where some bad people come along and try to kill me by nailing my arms to two planks of wood at the top of a grassy knoll. I even thought up some nifty little ideas like me wearing a crown of thorns and some soppy bloke called Peter betraying me because he’s such a big pussy.
I wrote a huge ten-page script out on some really nice paper and proudly presented it to Dog; the miserable sod went bloody mental! I swear, there was steam coming out of his ears and he looked like he was going to start shooting thunderbolts out of his arse. It was then that I decided to make myself scarce and went away to hide under my Turt blanket for a while. All the excitement was wearing and it wasn’t long before I drifted off to sleep. I then had a lovely dream where everyone was walking around wearing white earphones and swiping their fingers across touchscreen smartphones. There were shops on every street corner, all of them bearing my name on the front and burning candles lined every pavement. A secret police force went around making sure that no-one picked their nose lest they dirty the front of their electronic devices.
Imagine Stalinist Russia but instead of that moustachioed twat, there are pictures of cuddly old me all over the place. Now that’s what heaven should be like.
A dachshund dog called Max has, after four years of excessive barking, finally decided to pack it in. The decisive moment came when he was standing next to the lion enclosure during an impromptu visit to the local zoo. “There I was, looking at the big cats whilst my owners ate some ice cream, when I noticed a lion approaching me from behind the glass. He didn’t look like much so I just stared at him and bared my molars for a bit. Then he opened his mouth and roared. I was so shocked that I almost shit my pitty-pants.”
Max went on to say “Now, normally I’m a barky type of guy. And hey, why not? If I saw a bin I’d bark at it, just because. Same with a lamppost, it’s just the way it is. My mother always told me that if something looks out of place, you should bark at it. If everything looks fine, bark anyway just in case as it’s better to be safe than sorry. Mark it and bark it as they say.”
Max’s brush with death has prompted him to “Re-evaluate my priorities a bit.” He says “right after that lion got in my face, it got me thinking – is that how I look when I go on one of my barking escapades? Is that how people perceive me to be? Just a loud mouth? Do I want my kids growing up being scared of me? Uh-huh.”
“It kinda reminded me of that Monsters Inc. film. You know, where that big gay blue bear thing finally sees how much he scares children. I’ve seen that film maybe a dozen times but it’s only now that I see the wisdom behind that scene. Big blue guy, I respect you.”
“Talking of having kids, I wonder if the vet will let me have my testicles back.”
A hearty hello to my dear horsey-hounders and a cautious nod to the few remaining houndy-horsers amongst us. I know we have our differences but broadly speaking I guess you could say that we’re all neighing in the same barn… or barking in the same kennel if that’s more your thing. Christmas has been and gone and what a delightful time it was! I gave Gertrude a new set of platinum-plated horse shoes and a box of limited edition mint Matchsticks as a treat; I was thusly rewarded with some spritely show jumping and a hint of playful courtyard prancing. Fido woke up to a hefty slab of the finest sirloin Argentinean steak but I don’t think it had been tenderised properly – he was sick all over his velvet blanket an hour later.
I made a New Year’s resolution to spend more time with my trusty steed, but each time I approach him he barely acknowledges me. I’ve tried dressing up as a shepherd and coating the sheep in aniseed, but still he refuses to take any notice. Can you help?
Of course I can! First of all, you appear to be getting your animals mixed up – aniseed is a special treat for your hound, usually on birthdays, bank holidays, and on the anniversary of the Battle of Agincourt. Occasionally I’ll give my Fido some shavings of aniseed during the Queen’s jubilee if I’m feeling particularly frisky, but don’t overdo it or he’ll be begging for it all the time. The last thing you want is the little fellow poking and prodding you in the back in the middle of the night wanting another round of the good stuff.
Secondly, have you tried giving your horse the old mint and coconut treatment? Start off by putting some mint leaves in your pockets and spending a few minutes at a time with him. Keep building up on this routine and then start feeding him actual mints. I suggest starting with the milder gateway stuff like Tic Tacs at first and then move onto the Trebor Extra Strong as time goes on. Once he is showing an interest in you, now will be the time to go for the jugular! Get two halves of a coconut shell and, just when he’s least expecting it, bang them together so that they sound like a galloping horse – get the timing right and he’ll think an entire herd of mint-laden horses are coming to see him. He’ll be utterly thrilled!
Provided you keep your wits and your pecker up the pair of you will be rolling around in the hay in no time. Feel free to take some pictures and send them in to us!
Got a horse? Got a hound? Then you need Horse and Hound Magazine! Although we welcome newcomers to the world of horse and hound ownership this is not a place for part-timers – if you own just a horse or just a hound then I must kindly (but firmly) request that you place this publication back upon the shelf. Don’t get me wrong, walking your dachshund in the park has its place and sometimes I want to do nothing more than pop down to the stables and feed Gertrude a handful of Extra Strong Mints, but the real zest comes from mounting your mighty steed and having your faithful wolf-hound bounding alongside you.
I’m new to the world of horse-and-hound ownership and I think I have messed up, probably because I didn’t pay enough attention to your handy pull-out-and-keep wallchart that you kindly included with last week’s issue. I made some manure for my garden but the plants aren’t growing any faster. I have been measuring them hourly but the only change is the increasing number of flies buzzing around the tulips. Can you help?
Do not fret for this is one of the most common mistakes that newcomers make. First of all, you should be aware of the difference between horse droppings and hound droppings, for they are very different; it’s horse manure for your garden and dog manure for everything else.
Now I am no expert gardener but I believe you need more patience. As great as horses are, the perk of free manure should be seen as a bonus extra rather than the main attraction. Any excess dog droppings should be put into an envelope and posted to local goat owners – goats are hideous and ugly creatures and their procreation should be discouraged at every opportunity.
What with the recession and everything I am looking for an economical way of getting into this horse and hound world. If I buy a poodle would it be possible for me to rent a small horse on a part-time basis? Or perhaps alternate between horse and hound ownership every other month? Can you help?
Now look here this sort of thing really gets my goat. You cannot cheat your way into horse and hound ownership and your excuse about the recession isn’t good enough. It’s a way of life; a state of being; a philosophy to live by and cherish forever. We don’t tolerate donkey owners, pony lovers, mule sympathisers nor zebra fanatics. Poodles are despicable creatures and it is my sincere belief that they are nothing more than the bastard offspring of confused goats and overly promiscuous sheep.