Who's the Bitch now, Mr Spencer!

This morning, at just gone seven, my door was hammered down and a man in a suit that looked like it was woven from dried horse shit handed me this:

(Click on image to enlarge )

It seems like John was doing a little more than keeping dog when I dumped the Morrison's leftovers into the canal. The bastard was recording my every action. Now I've been hit with a whopping great fine and may even be evicted. I am just astonished that anyone would do such a mean, callous, low down dirty trick.


  1. I love, 'suit that looked like it was woven from dried horse shit' it describes every council emplyee I've ever come in contact with - unwillingly.

    Can't wait to hear what happens next.

    Helena xx

  2. With the English it always comes down to The Council, the preferred weapon of the terminally useless.

    I remember in another life a twisted fiend attempting to have me evicted on some flimsy premise.

    She used bowler-hatted virgins that Kafka would have stood on as proxies.

    Needless to say, Lady Battenberg-Marmalade was soon hounded out of the neighbourhood.

    And the bowler-hatted virgins never ever bothered me again...


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