Mad Dogs and Harlequins

Once upon a time. Long, long ago...

A television pundit said that should Match of the Day feature a particularly vibrant, compelling and tightly contested game of rugby, some tastes and obsessions might change. Well, that comment came to mind today watching the Scarlets v Harlequins game. Two teams going at each other, going hammer and tongs at each other, both teams only interested in winning the game, playing it out in sheeting rain, making the best of the conditions. Throw in a tight finish, down to the wire, and there's all the evidence you could ever need. Stick this on BBC 1 at ten o'clock instead of the insipid Chelski Manure game, and you'd have untold converts to the egg-chasing game.

Elpida

Places soapbox, and clambers aboard, here goes:

D-the-dog was thrown over th fence at the Elpida dogs' home in Greece as a puppy. If anyone wants details of a lucky escape from illness before he pitched up here, BLISS is your girl.

Now.

BLISS is active on some dog owner social media, she's a whole lot more patient than I am, a whole lot less sweary, and a whole lot more willing to debate things than I am. She works tirelessly: auctions, eBay, running food and blankets and essentials up to Crawley for the trips made to Greece from there. Basically, her heart's absolutely in the right place, and her money's where her mouth is.

Now. Time for my mouth.

If you've paid for a dog when there's rescues needing homes, your opinion is worthless, because you're below contempt.

If you do anything other than back a cash-strapped vicar's work to raise funds in order to assist with the trip to Greece, you're some sort of hate-filled Daily Mail type and your opinion is worthless, because you're below contempt.

Don't even think about commenting about foreign v domestic rescue dogs, or me and Mr D might just pay you a visit, you Daily Mail retard.

In any case, google it, and chip in or help out if you can. Dogs are dogs, they deserve happy, loving homes.

Mad Dogs

We watched the first three episodes. At one point DLL and me were laughing our socks off, and BLISS was cowering, covering her face with her hands. “Why aren't you laughing?” we said, “it's too stressful” she said. “How're they going to get away with it?”

We tried. We really, patiently tried to explain that it isn't real, and that if they don't get away with it, it'd be the world's shortest ever series, all to no avail. “But it's just too stressful....”

Beautiful.

Apparently not too stressful...

...viewing is Botched Up Bodies. BLISS threw it casually into a conversation:

“On Botched Up Bodies last night...”

“You what?”

“Botched Up Bodies”

“Have you got some sort of special remote control with access to otherwise hidden rubbish TV channels?”

“No. There was this bloke with...”

As if I shouldn't be questioning the sensibleness in viewing a programme called Botched Up Bodies. Like that's normal telly. DLL is just as bad.

“It's interesting”.

If you have that special, secret remote control, apparently, it is.