Dogs, Drugs and the Soviet Block

Six Chihuahuas, a pair of very sexy high-heel shoes, former Soviet President Kruschev,  oh and a woman interfering with my buttocks all in the name of Hippocrates.

The last 72hrs have been turbulent, the weather has been crap, but the last few days I have got my arse into gear and been charging about. I don’t quite know where to begin, indeed I am not sure I am able to relate the entire sequence of Events, but I will start with the Six Chihuahuas  which left me traumatised.

I met them in Portobello Road on Sunday at the coffee stand. Six of the  little f*ckers, Wendy the owner, or Pack head as she describes herself introduced me to Parker the Daddy, aka the leader of the pack. I am sorry, but a pack of Chihuahuas? No  a Pack of Dogs, is a big slobbering bunch of beasts, baying hounds that would tear a man to pieces. A pack of chiuahas would give you a good gumming, or a nip or two at best and maybe rip your jeans a tad.  I think the collective should be a ponce of Chihuahuas, or a woosy, or a flock, but I digress, Parker and his pack, they live in Notting Hill, yappy, noisy little accessory dogs, but it gets worse, much worse.

Parker I am told has his own Facebook page, he’s a celebrity I am told. He goes on Photo-shoots, he has more friends on FB than I do. Here am I trying to write something, and this little excuse for a dog ( frankly they remind me more of rats with long legs ) who cannot even type on a key-board is more media successful than I am, I hate him, what a little shit.

Wendy Mummy/Pack head asks if the other customers at our table would like to hold one of the “Dogs” , I want to say something deeply disrespectful to Wendy, but just  hide behind my newspaper and do my best to smile. Two girls next to me squeal with delight at the chance to hold one of the dwarf dogs, Wendy goes on to talk about each of the pooches characteristics in turn, it really is like she is talking about children. I feel nauseous. I try to find some bit of warmth for Wendy and Parker, but I am destitute. Wendy proudly explains that Parker is in fact a nothing short of a canine medical marvel. He is a kind of medicin sans frontier of the canine world,  a chill hound who offers a visiting de-stress and mediation concept for the Workplace. If she came near my office with her Chiuahas I would have a complete nervous breakdown or maybe just go the whole hog and top myself. 

At long last Parker and his five off-spring went for a walk, the sun came out and and my demeanour improved, but i realised that i am not an entirely pleasant man. Wendy was a nice enough woman, just getting on with her life doing what she wants and trying to help people along the way, but all i could think of was that i would get those vile little rats of dogs neutered so they can’t replicate. As an act of contrition i attach Parkers link. Maybe there are other people who are not like me bitter and twisted about dogs that get carried in handbags.

Parkers FB page for the curious:-

Parkers Pack

I ventured to Cambridge, saw my son play Khruschev on the stage, the play I am afraid was dull, deathly dull, my son was great of course, but I now understood why Communism was doomed to failure, its not that Socialist planning prevents individual development, no, not that, its not that capitalism is the panacea, its purely and simply that communism is really boring. I think I nodded off towards the end of the play, I was trying to stay awake, for fear of snoring, but I think I got away with it. I love being in Cambridge, something about the place that just does it for me, I did some shopping, bought some threads, ( i am trying to update my image from man who buys his clothes at Asda/Sainsburys to something a little more stylish and contemporary ) & so it was a positive experience.

The sexy high heels? well valour and being a gentleman prevents me from going into detail, but all I can say is that seeing a good pair of heels on a pretty woman is probably one of the most enjoyable diversions I can think of, I got to spend just a little of my weekend shoe shopping, it was spectacularly enjoyable, the rain clouds disappeared.

By monday morning I am back in work mode, up early determined to make it a business like week. then mid-morning I had to head to Hammersmith Hospital for an appointment with the Rheumataologist, I am medicated, inspected, pilled up and quickly ready to face the world with new vigour, then my Doctor, a rather fetching Italian lady  ( so much more encouraging than some dry old fart ) said she thought I needed a booster. Come and see the nurse………..

I was ushered into a little room, Nursey comes in with a little tray and an unfeasibly large needle and three phials of milky liquid. She slowly fills the syringe and asks me to take down my trousers, I never go against a ladies wishes………. can you show me your bottom please. Now there’s an offer i thought, then the immortal words, you will feel a sharp prick…………………

I ask Nursey if some people are difficult when it comes to injections, funnily enough she says, its often big men with Tattoos, they don’t like needles, always surprises me that she says.

I pull up my trousers and walk off into the big blue yonder, pumped up with steroids, feeling medically enhanced, but with a distinctly sore arse.

I will let you know how it goes when the drugs have kicked in…………………….


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