When dogs go human. Only quicker.


Emily, my bambino sis of bear and cheetah fame, sent me this little treasure.

A family friend of hers, in Jersey where she oft lives, was fortunate enough to have a pool in their garden, but every time they went out of a day they came home to wet decking and splashed furniture.

They suspected the brats next door but could never catch them red handed. So, one day they hit upon the idea of hiding a video camera and see what happened…

Britain’s got talent


The final was fab.

We were out at a party on Saturday night and had to sharp exit for a bit to see who landed the spoils.

The wee gadgey that won it must be freezing though.

He wasn’t, for me, the best by a long way. Ultimately Andrew Johnstone ousted Amazonio by virtue of being better (but I think they split each others’ vote) and Michael Jackson and the Sique Janny just about did the smash and grab.

Here’s Andrew in his qualifier. He was much better in the final but of course it has been sequestrated on youtube for a bit.

Brilliant.

And the second best thing was Amanda Holden’s dress.

bon iver


Ian D gave me a copy (sorry, I’ve only spent £500 on music this year) of this guy’s much lauded album this morning and I’ve listened to it all day (between phone calls).  I can’t honestly say that it’s the album of the year so far, but it is very interesting

The story behind it; man loses girl and goes off weeping into the outback to rant about it makes for a good creative schticke.

The critics are, of course, mutually masturbating.  I think it’s rather good but time will tell…

Here’s a wee taster.

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Arran


My annual golf trip to Arran, two weeks ago, was a curate’s egg. Good in places. In fact I shot my best ever scores on Corrie, Lamlash (76) and Shiskine (81) and won the 4th and 6th rounds.

However, I was docked a stroke for coming second last year so played off 16 (two below my handicap) meanwhile Wee Bobby got a four stroke raise for playing like Stevie Wonder meets John Merrick for the last three years.

Trouble is, he played like Sevvy Ballesteros for two rounds and despite his colonic syphilitis (or something) hung on to play five rounds. He was coming back to the field like nobody’s business, but his first round five under par was enough to win the day.

I came in a respectable second, three adrift with a pile up in and around me for the places.

Had I have played off my national I’d have won by miles but hey, that’s goilf.

Good on ya Bobby.

Did I tell you he’s 73?