Is it wrong?

Is it wrong to watch your dog (or cat) throw up his breakfast and then let him eat it to save you having to clean up warm sick?

Hell no!

Is it wrong to put mushy peas on my chips and gravy when I didn't ask for them?

Hell yes!

You see, mushy peas fall into the same category as mashed potatoes when it comes to things that infiltrate gravy with grainy cloudiness. I can't be doing with stuff that sullies my gravy. Instead of having a fuckin' delish plate of food, I ended up with something that looked like it had been fished out of the pig bin*.

WRONG, WRONG, WRONG!

And Trump wondered why I was in such a bad mood. Honestly, you'd have thought she'd know me by now.

*For those who didn't attend school in 1970s Britain, the pig bin was the big bin in the school canteen where the dinnerladies would empty the unfinished meals from children's plates - pudding and all. The leftovers were then collected by farms to be fed to pigs - or so we were led to believe.


A Mars a day
Once upon a time in a land not far away, there lived a scientist who went for a job at the Waltham Centre for Animal Research (or whatever it's called). You know Pedigree Masterfoods, makers of Pedigree Chum, Whiskas and other pet foods? Well they have to research their products and product components, so they have this fantastic facility in the Midlands where they do their stuff.

There are loads of dogs and cats, rabbits and less significant pets kept there and they're basically fed different food formulations before being tested for physiological wellbeing etc. Tested in a nice way - I think the worst that happens to them is that they have blood and wee samples taken.

All the animals are housed in fantastic accommodation and they seem to have a pretty good standard of living, all things considered. That's unless there's a back room where they stick electrodes in their heads to observe brain patterns when they're given different foods.

Anyway, Pedigree Masterfoods is owned by Mars and Mars also owns a chain of three animal care centres called "My Petstop", of which there's one here in Manchester. We're going to take Rocky to check out the grooming facilities later on; it's about time he started to look like a Mini Schnauzer rather than a Scottie dog.

I wonder if these places are a front for their animal research centre. What if they carry out secret experiments on the animals in their care? I may ask the sixteen year old "I just want to work with little animals" at the reception and see what sort of response I get. "And what is it you intend to do with his hair and nail clippings, do you have a intensive cloning programme that you're going to use it for? And don't be getting any funny ideas about hypnotising him and making him want to start eating Pedigree Chum!"