Someone has shit in my inbox…

My routine in the morning basically starts with a shit load of coffee, a scratch of the jewels, switching on the laptop, opening me yahoo account and checking the Emails. Now normally I have around 300 sometimes more waiting for me, around 30 are from readers of this site but the rest are total bullshit. Mostly its either animal porn, some daft teenage forehead getting eight cocks stuffed in her ass or some sort of email telling me my dick is too small and that I need help satisfying women… how do they know my cock is tiny? Someone has obviously been talking to these people and if I find out who she is I’ll shit in her pillow case.

A couple of them are normally from India saying I have a long distant dead relative that has left me four million squillion dollars and that my bank details are needed for a wire transfer.

Dear Friend, (Not a good start... don't even know the mother fucker!)

I am Mr. Saidi Ahmed, a banker in one of the reputable bank in burkina faso. (where?) i have decided to contact you on a business proposal of us$10.5m (I think the proper use of English is U.S$...asshole) (ten million five hundred thousand united states dollar). the depositor of the said fund died with his entire family during the Iraq war in 2006. the deceased customer used his wife as the next of kin but unfortunately, the wife died along side with him leaving nobody for the claim. (then it automatically goes to the state.... nice try though!) according to our banking law, if the fund remain unclaimed for three (3) years then, the fund will be transfer into the reserve bank of burkina as unclaimed bill. i don't want the fund to go into the bank treasury and as such, let us claim the fund now of which I shall present you as his cousin or business partner so that the bank will transfer the fund into your bank account for us to share, your percentage shall be 50% while 50% will be for me. (right okay... I'm convinced!) as an insider in this bank, i assure you that, this transaction is 100% risk free. if you are willing for the deal, contact me for more details but if you are not capable, please notify me also. the transaction will take us only 14 banking days. nobody knows about the fund and as such, you must keep the secret within you ok. (ah yes... don't tell anyone coz I'm gonna rip you off and you'll be ashamed for being a twat!) you must keep this deal as secret for the security of the fund. do not disclose this deal to anybody because i want the secret to be between us only and I shall send the text of the application as to fill and send to the bank for the release of the fund into your bank account on the receipt of your message and again I shall be monitoring the whole situation here in the bank until you confirm the money in your bank account and ask me to come down to your country for subsequent sharing of the fund according to percentage indicated above. (fantastic... where do I sign?)

Now I’m not actually sure what’s more offensive… the fact that they think I’m daft enough to send these jug balancing pirates my bank details or the fact that they claim my family is of Indian descendant… the jury is still out on that one.

I’d say around a hundred of them are pharmacy related trying to flog me either Viagra, steroids, or something called Calais… what the hell is Calais anyway? The only bloody drugs that interest me are poxy head ache pills after I’ve sifted through a million emails.

Another cracker are the ones that are trying to sell fake Rolex’s… now I aint an advertising expert in the slightest and call me a fat belligerent walrus if you like but surly if your gonna flog something then promoting it as fake aint the best idea in the world, yet bizarrely they are already spitting in the eye of trading standards so if they are gonna bullshit they may as well go the whole hog.

Oh well I guess that’s it from trawling the shit in my inbox for today, perhaps Yahoo should create some sort of program that can root through the junk for me… if they can create a program to keep tabs on where we all are then surly it aint too much to ask.

Ross’s crap jokes…

My mate Ross sends me a ton of crap jokes every day by sms… here are two corkers that had me in stitches…

A woman wakes up after a vaginal tuck to find three bunches of flowers next to her by the bed. The first bunch was from her Surgeon with a card saying “All went well… get well soon!”… The second one was from her husband saying “Get well soon and I love you!” She picks up the third and it reads “Hi I’m tommy from the burns unit… cheers for my new ears!”

The London met Police are looking for a racist attacker. I rang them but apparently it’s not a police recruitment drive.

Diary… Fucking bastard thieves…

Whilst round the woman’s today we decided to do our bit for the family, basically Sarah’s aunt visited the Dentists to have some building work done after pulling her own tooth after a fight with a Curley Whirly. So off we trot to help by taking the dogs for a walk and get some much needed exercise when we see her auntie bombing it out off the house in some sort of crazed fit.

It was kinda surreal because for a start it was the first time I had encounted such rage in a person since leaving the hospital, but oddly the rage is normally flying head long in my direction so to see it from witness’s percpective was quite refreshing.

It turns out that as she walked in her house there were a couple of scumbag thieves trying to break in her house. Now if there’s one thing I can’t stand and that’s fucking burglers, thieves or people that nick from decent people. To me scag head thieving fucking losers have less right to live than Garry Glitter in a school playground; the thought of what they do just makes my teeth itch.

I aint an angel and I’ve never claimed to be, but I would never dream of stealing from someone else because it’s the lowest form of living and to be honest it’s better to have some self respect and go without. The shocking thing was that this was at around one o’clock… IN THE AFTERNOON! Now call me old fashioned or even bloody stupid, but I always thought that burglars struck at night… late evening at the earliest.

Now what kind of society are we living in now when cock end chavs are stealing from people in broad daylight? Recently in the news we’ve had old ladies being mugged and beaten, hoodies killing middle aged men for trying to break up fights and this week it has been revealed that in Devon a female nursery worker has been abusing and taking nasty grotty pictures of kids… this means that not only are our children not safe in nurseries of all places… but it proves that female pedophiles now exist… our children are no longer safe with anyone… and people wonder why I aint got kids.

The truth is a harsh one, but if I’m finding it hard to live in our crime infested life myself… how can expect my future children to live in it?

I am the proud father of a little boy called Rocky; he's loving and docile, pretty fucking lazy yet always eager to play with all the other boys and girls. Yet bizarrely all we get is dirty looks, people running away from him and snidely sneering at him as we walk proudly with our baby.

Okay so you've probably worked out by the title that our baby boy is a dog, but that's exactly how we see him, as our baby. When the missus originally picked him from the pet shop we had already decided to let the dog pick us, I don't agree that a dog should be picked based on merit and breed. A dog should always choose his own owners in order for the all important bond to be formed.

As we walked through the Perspex animal prison we saw many many sad wet nosed faces, every one of them deserving a better form of life and needing a future of love and loyalty. If we had the space and money we would have bought them all without question, well Sarah would have anyway.

As I stood exchanging pleasantries with a Grey Parrot that had a better grasp of the queens English than my alcoholic brother, the choice was made. I looked round and there stood Sarah, up against the clear plastic wall with a little black fur ball up on the Perspex wooing his new mum. Our new baby had chosen his mum while all the others slept, played and dismissed her as just another face like the many others they had seen before.

Sarah was now in love with the "baby boy" that would change our lives for the better, yet at the same time tip our routines on their head in spectacular puppy fashion. I walked over to the crude plastic container that imprisoned our boy wondering what breed it was, determined that it didn't really matter as long as Sarah was happy... Poodle? Pomeranian? Cocker Spaniel? Chow Chow? Chihuahua? All very common choices amongst the girls and suddenly I began to get nervous at the idea of having to walk a dog in pink bows and glittery bling collars.

As I saw the little black fur ball it dawned on me in true Sarah fashion that she was about to blow my expectations clean out of the water... and I saw our boy for the first time up close... and I nearly shit in my boxers.

It was a damn Rottweiler! I knew from that moment I was gonna be in big trouble, it was a puppy now but these things grow up big, fucking nasty and with more teeth than the entire Osmond family. I was more scared of Sarah's mum than anything else, I had just single handily been accomplice to the complete devastation of the perfect home that her mum was rightly proud of.

It's been eighteen months now and Rocky has grown into the most loving, loyal and perfect friend that Sarah has ever had. The two of them go absolutely everywhere together and she has not once slacked off from her responsibility as a "mother" and I'm very proud of both Sarah and her mum of the job they have done on bringing up such a potentially lethal killing machine.

The one thing we didn’t expect would be narrow small mindedness of the public, people literally cross the road to avoid Rocky. To me that’s a blessing in disguise because you all know I can't stand sharing pavement with people I don't know... but Sarah? She takes it very personally and gets upset every time it happens... and it happens alot!

Today for example we were at Canvey Island for the day, soaking up the sun, sand, sea and pollution on a nasty summers day. Rocky was just being himself and being very vocal (he barks at people to say hello believe it or not) and this totally fat fuck that looked like he has had sausage and mash for breakfast everyday since birth took offense. Sarah got upset and walked somewhere else taking Rocky with her. Now Sarah never tells me when someone has started for the reason being I tend to get a bit flustered and say something, which in turn normally turns into DIY tooth extraction... hence the secrecy... but why get offended? It's not our fault he's bitter at that fact that he's never seen his own cock sinse puberty and his missus has a face like slate layers tool bag... fuck off!

Having Rocky has made me realise one thing, to pigeon hole a dog based on breed is in fact just as racially wrong as assuming that a black man will steal your stereo, an Irishman is automatically stupid or that all Welshman shag sheep. Okay so all the French are still selfish stuck up arrogant cunts but lets face it, they always will be. But I for one am proud of our baby boy and couldn’t give a shit in a wind tunnel at who’s scared or who’s offended by him, he’s our baby boy Rottweiler or not. And here’s a message for those ignorant shits that are scared and offended by him… if you see us coming, don’t expect us to move… if you don’t want to come near our boy… then cross the road and look both ways… because we couldn’t really give a shit!

Scott