Girl Vs Dog.

I was reading some of my old posts yesterday and it seams that the most exciting part of my day is usually the drive in to work in the morning. Today was no exception and it made me think about people’s values and priorities.

I had just filled up with petrol at Manjikes garage and was waiting for a gap in the traffic to join the main road and continue my journey. On the opposite side of the road there were two people who were definitely in panic mode. A woman accompanied by three Dalmatian dogs on leads, and a rather rotund chap wearing a white and orange hooped top (Does my belly look big in this) in charge of two vicious looking Alsations and a tiny terrier type animal with a bow on its furry head.

The terrier had made a break for freedom and was excitedly running in and out of the way of traffic as it progressed in the same direction as the man but at rather greater speed. He was huffing and puffing, shouting after the dog “Primrose, Primrose you bad girl” and waiving his free arm around displaying a very wet armpit.

The traffic was of course slowing down; nobody wanted a tiny terrier with a pink bow stuck to his or her wheel. But once out of the way of the dog the cars carried on their way. As I approached the killing field I dutifully slowed down just as the little bleeder ran into the road again. Watching all this was a woman holding the hand of a delightful little girl with fluffy hair decked out in a splendid summer dress.

She was of course entranced and obviously worried about the little furry animal dicing with death, she did what any entranced child would do, before her mother could stop her she wrenched her hand free and darted into the road to grab the dog.

I was going slowly enough to be able to stop, but the lunatic overtaking me at speed obviously wasn’t, nor could he see past my car and therefore was oblivious to the drama unfolding in the middle of the road.

Your heart is in your mouth now isn’t it, what do you mean no, it should be.

The rotund chap in the garish top had handed the dogs leads to his female companion determined to end this dangerous state of affairs. He saw the little girl run into the traffic, he saw the dog laughing its bollocks of, and he saw the maniac driving at speed bearing down on both. To the tune of chariots of fire he sprinted (Well as fast as a fat bastard can sprint) in front of my car pushing the little girl aside and heroically grabbed the dog out of harms way.

He banged on my car bonnet and glared at me through the windscreen. He was only able to do this because my vehicle was stopped, so how he could lay the blame at my feet I cannot imagine. I got out of the car and grabbed him by the head; I turned his pathetic shaved eyebrowless head toward the little girl who was now thankfully back with her Mother. I can’t remember exactly what it was I screamed at him so I will paraphrase.

“You mindless F**king bastard, you made no attempt to grab that little girl, you F**king pushed past her to get to that F**king poof F**king dog. I should shove the F**king yapping little F**ker up your F**king fat arse.

I can be quite colourful when I want, the little girl thought so too, she turned to her mum and declared “That rather good looking chap in the smart fashionable suit who looks not unlike George Clooney is swearing mummy”. Ok so that last bit was a lie, but she had noticed my language and was informing her mum, however mum was already on her way to where fat bastard and I were stood. Not to admonish me for my expletives but to land a hefty slap to the side of fat bastards head.

I cant say I blame her, in his misguided attempt at saving the dog rather than the human being he had knocked said human being over, therefore doing more damage than probably any car could have done.
As she continued to berate him for his arse upward priorities I returned to my car and carried on my journey. It just shows you how pathetic some people can be when it comes to animals. I like animals but if the choice is man or dog, man wins every time.

The producers of this blog would like to inform you than no animals or children were harmed during the writing of this post.

Bird shit.

I came out of the house this morning to discover that a bird had shat on my car, huge great dollops of white, green and black bird crap adorned my beloved Rover 800 sports vittesse. This is not the first time this has happened, in fact it happens about twice a week on average. At the risk of sounding paranoid I know for a fact that it isn’t a case of my car being in the wrong place at the wrong time. On every occasion investigation proves by the fact that there is no crap either side of the car or anywhere around it for that mater that this was a deliberate act of terrorism by the crapee.

I remember one summer whilst working at our track in Great Yarmouth watching the guy that had recently arrived to take over from me, washing and polishing his brand new silver sports car just outside the main office. I warned him not to park there especially as it was an open top car, but he gave me a knowing look as if to say don’t worry old chap, I know what I’m doing and carried on sprucing up his new toy.

All kinds of seagulls and other see birds nested on the roof of our building causing all manner of damage to the roof and surrounding property. The worst time was when they had young in the nest, at the sound of an approaching car they would scramble like world war one fighter pilots and deliberately formation bomb anything on four wheels.

Despite my imparting this knowledge to our intrepid new manager, he completely ignored me and set about masturbating his new car with shammy leather and duster. I armed myself with a cold coke and a large ice cream, sat on the low wall surrounding the track and lazily consumed both whilst basking in the hot summer sun and waited.

He laughed, “You worry too much pal,” he said applying more polish and rubbing the paintwork as eagerly as though it was a magic lamp. I sucked the last melting blobs of ice cream from my cornet and pointed to the roof “They are waiting for you to finish” I told him. There along the full length of the front side of the building sat thirty or forty huge black ugly looking seagulls, hopping from one leg to another quite obviously fit to burst full of crap and waiting for the idiot below to complete his valeting.

He stood back and admired his work, the car glinted in the bright sun, he gave the bonnet one last wipe and satisfied started to put his cleaning stuff in a small bag. The seagulls had been fairly quiet whilst all this was going on but as he was clearing his stuff away they began to screech and flap their wings.

Suddenly as one they took flight, circled once then in tight formation began their run lined up perfectly with the side of the building. The idiot had seen all this but instead of getting out of the way he panicked and stood in front of his car arms outstretched in a vain attempt at protecting it from the squadron of birds bearing down on him.

Like a well-oiled machine the bombers let lose their load and without exception all were direct hits. The sparkling new car was peppered with slimy bird shit, from the front bumper across the soft black leather interior, to the shiny silver grills on the back panel there was a mass of green and white snotty bird crap.

Their bombing run finished the birds went back to the roof from whence they came and looked down on their handiwork with great satisfaction. I felt sorry for him despite his foolishness, but he had been warned. Now if that isn’t convincing evidence for vicious intent I don’t know what is.

Any way I cleaned my car this morning, you have to right away. That stuff eats away at the paintwork and can in seconds ruin it. Its murder to get off too even when fresh, wet and warm. When I had finished I looked around the rooftops daring the bastards to do it again, silence, nothing moved. Satisfied I got into my car and crawled slowly out of my drive much like they did in the end sequence of Hitchcocks the birds.

On my way in I drove to the papershop just a few hundred yards from my house, I couldn’t have been in the shop more than a few minutes, but waiting for me when I came out was a car full of bird shit.

Now do you think I’m paranoid?.