Monday, 18 May 2009

Day 645 of Captivity

Not satisfied with having me gutted, those depraved Infidels have gone on a mutilation spree and have now taken the kelb to the vet!  He came back looking like his scrotum had been used as a punch bag by Ricky Hatton!  He is not amused and has been rather pathetic.  I was sawn in half and you don't see me rolling around being feeble!  I have taken the bull by the horns and managed to work out how to push past that lampshade and get to my stitches.  However, those cursed Infidels have discovered my little secret and have taken the torture up a level.  I am now wandering about with a satellite dish on my head picking up Al Jazeera and sulking like only a Saluki can.  The lampshade I am currently wearing would be more at home at Jodrell Bank!

They have also discovered that I have been scratching my chest and got it very raw.  In an attempt to prevent this I am wearing stupid socks and a hideous off cast T shirt, the hand me down of a sweaty adolescent!  It smells strange and belongs in Barry Manilow's wardrobe.  The smell can only be described as youth.  I am now confined to throwing myself about in my crate, writhing in agony and unable to chew my stitches.  Can life be any more desolate!?!

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