Shagging and Shit.
Baboon But Bobby, the other poodle is wild with lust.
I've learned not to leave them together for a moment.
Last night, actually.
I made a quick call, rushed down stairs.
Not only had they already started, but my mad panic to check them, had caused Evil Chicken to panic and spasm.
Found them stuck arse to arse like Siamese twins.
At work today, an electrician was confessing to Max Cadey and his co worker Councilor, how he'd recently shit his pants and had to change back into the previous days dirty underwear. It had happened whilst he was on a job ( no pun intended ) at Port Talbot. Apparently, he was on his way to the bog when an unstoppable fart had suffered a 'follow through'.
We all know this because Max, having recently announced on the radio, something impressive like the 'shutting down of Zone 4', or the rapidly declining state of the dylithium crystals, had felt the conversation deserved a wider audience and had secretly left the mic' button on.
We know it was Max and not Councilor, because Max was asking for increasingly more sordid details.
Having strong feelings about this unforgivable, breach of confidence, I've decided to blog it.
The truth is now definitely 'out there'.