Very early tomorrow morning, my Snout is going away. A whole week down South with his family, leaving me with even less supervision than normal. I will be busy dry-humping my murderer for the most part, but I might venture into the garden to offer up my hairy legs to the sun.
There is a football match on tonight. I call it ‘fuckball’, because it’s more economical than saying ‘fucking football’ every time. They say the season will be over soon but they are lying, there’s always football on. Or IPL. Or GTA. It’s a good job I am a misanthropic, anti-social bookworm, or I’d feel very left out.