Ditch Shitter Just Wrote .....

Ditch Shitter Just Wrote .....

Saturday, November 17, 2018

Breitbart .....

  For some time now, probably a couple of years, I've been a member of a sort of semi, private members, chat room. Nothing interesting. Just a place where a small bunch of us, who know each other from a Home Brew forum, hang out and chew the fat.

  It was opened by one of the lads. We'll call him " Foss ". Foss is ridiculously tech savvy. Works in IT. Literally jets around the fucking world, doing it. Gets 'Head Hunted'. That level of shit. So, opening us a little dive wasn't That taxing, for him.

  And, there we were. Bunch of blokes, who made their own beer, getting together and nattering, much as we would in a pub setting. It was cool. Names and faces would come and go. One time, I managed to log myself out and couldn't get back in. I became distracted .....

  Some time later, I thought about the place and started digging. Must be some way of regaining my Password. Not like I was Banned, or anything. I just hadn't tried that hard.

  Wasn't too difficult either. I fiddled about and found my way back in there. And, un fucking believably, the very last topic of conversation in there, just hours before, had been me!!! I shit ye fucking not! Pure fluke!

  From honest memory? The conversation went very much like this:

" A/ I wonder what happened to Ditch?

B/ Yeah. He hasn't been in for a while.

A/ No. He was okay. Quite amusing, at times.

Foss/ Yeah. He was alright ~ until he'd go all out Breitbart ..... "

  That fucking stumped me! " Breitbart "? My understanding was that that was some Far right wing fucking echo chamber, on line. Place where people blamed Jews for Everything, as they wanked over CG images of Ronnie Regan throwing one up Thatcher.

  What ever. I slipped back into the stream of conversation. Never mentioned I'd seen That comment. Got on with my life. Have been talking shit with Foss, Ben, Dave and the boys ever since. Nothing's changed.

  Except; The niggle wouldn't let up. " Breitbart "? How the Fuck could I be 'Breitbart'?!? Fuck this. Off I went, to Google.

   ..... If ye Already believe its nothing but " Far Right Propaganda " ? Who am I to waste my breath arguing? Frankly? The first ~ and last! ~ time I ever looked at it, about a decade ago, I thought just that. It rather sickened me, if I'm honest.

  A  month ago, when I went back, out of curiosity as to what I was being accused of? I found it a gloriously fucking Refreshing read!!!

  No stories about 'Benefit Scrounging Single Mother of Nine Demands Bigger Mansion And Third Breast Enlargement On Beleaguered NHS'. No references to MP's of Any shade by stupid, barbed sobriquets. Nothing like that.

  I just found a very level headed type of reportage, as one may have expected from an old time broadsheet. 

  And, it's only 'right wing' in as much that it isn't suckling on the EU's dick, whilst using every other available column inch to deride the POTUS, elected by the American people.

  In fact, I only look at the UK page.They haven't got an Irish one. It's good too! They refer to Tommy Robinson ~ when they actually mention him ~ as an " Activist and Social Journalist ". Sounds about right.

  As I write; Much of the focus is on the Brexit pantomime. No name calling though. They simply seem to be presenting the facts. They do that. Present the Facts. 

  They refer to these Grooming Gangs as " Largely consisting of  Men of Pakistani Muslim heritage ". Yes. Anything wrong with that? Is that " Racist "? If they were Greek Christians, would mentioning That be " Racist "?

  No. All told? Thanks, 'Foss'. A good read. It's now on my short list of places I'm sure to visit every day.

 It's lovely, to be able to just get a look at what's going on, over the water, without being swamped by shit like, " Far Right Wing " this. And " Gender Fluid " that.

Possibly one of the last bastions of ~ surprisingly Un Biased ~ Honest reportage? Breitbart. As suggested by 'Foss'.

Saturday, November 10, 2018

" Teabag " ..... How Have I Not Mentioned Him?!

  Where do I even start then? " The Beginning " would entail my relating my entire fucking life story. So, let's just say I had a 'Snapper', before. 

  Common Snapping Turtle, Chelydra serpentina, for those who may need to check this shit out. I had to give my first one up up, due to my health at that time. But, I've always craved a replacement.

  January, 2017, I found one I could get my hands on. Taxi!!! So, a five hour, €120.00 taxi ride later, I was back home, from North Antrim, with my new Snapper. €80.00 and barely out of the fucking shell! 

  Here he is, modelling beside a €1.00 coin. At 23.25mm, a Yo is just a shade bigger than a quid:


  Scary muvva, eh?  I not only got near him, at that stage; I'd even think nothing of picking him up! Even a month later, as he grew .....

  Cute as fuck, eh? It was great fun, feeding him little flakes of meat, from the forceps. Watching him valiantly  ripping a scrap of beef apart, with his little beak and claws.

  I had him in an 18" tank, then. One I'd bought for him. That was Jan, '17. 

  By the middle of The year, I'd had to build him a bigger tank. I made him a 36" long one. 10" high. 17" wide.  Something he could grow into. Here he was, at one end of his own football pitch:

  Still cute as fuck, huh? Yeah. Snappers, like many baby turtles, are cute little fuckers. But, if they survive that long ~ Don't die of mismanagement. Or get dumped in the local park pond.  They live long, and prosper! 

 " Teabag " is prospering! I'd long since figured on this. I didn't get him on a fucking whim. 'To amuse the kids'. We're together for ever, now.

  I call him " Teabag ", incidentally, because it occurred to me that I'd pay fucking good money, to see any cunt try to 'Teabag' him, in his tank! LOL! 

  He's growing nicely now. Nearly eight inches each way. And anything approaching the surface of his water is treated as food!

  But, that's what actually prompted and inspired me to write this. The insanity of the concept which finally dawned on me, tonight. When I fed the Dogs.

  See; My Dogs, like Teabag, are fed on raw flesh and bone. Their natural diets. And, I basically do this by walking into this room, where Teabag lives, and chucking handfuls of meat around. Dogs know their spots and eat what I throw to them.

  Obviously then, once I disappear out the kitchen, at the appointed time. Make the usual, chopping sounds, then open that door? Each Dog knows the score and is bouncing around in its spot, eager to catch what I throw it.

  Classical 'Pavlovs Dog' shit, yeah? My Dogs are conditioned to expect feeding, at a certain hour. As soon as I start doing certain, routine, shit. They Know it ends with food coming their way. They get excited, in anticipation, and jump about excitedly. So what?

  Only, here's the fucking kicker! Those same Dogs are given to play fighting much of the day too. Jumping around, getting excited. Teabag can see this, from his tank. I guess he can hear it too? He remains sanguine.

  Yet, bang on the hour, the moment I announce it's feed time and come back into this room, chucking meat around? I've realised fucking Teabag is jumping around in his tank too!!!

  He runs up and down the glass. Rearing up, ready to grab anything from the surface. Very clearly extremely aware of me. Focused and excited!

  But, what the fuck?! I've Never fed him, along with or at the Dogs feeding time! He has absolutely no reason to have developed a Pavlovian response to their getting fed.

  Except that; His little, turtle brain has actually figured out that these other things, in this room with him, are like him. Some strange, hairy, long legged Land Turtles. And They're getting fucking fed, like he does!!!

  The bastard actually Recognises that it's Meat ~ the stuff He loves eating ~ that I'm chucking to the Dogs! And, he Wants some! Clearly, if I let him get on the floor, at feeding time? He'd be scuttling after what I was throwing the Dogs!

  Now, I don't know about you? But, I find that pretty fucking cool! 

  Fucking turtle, that's only Ever known existence within a glass box, has managed to figure out that completely unconnected life forms, with which it's never had Any association what so ever, are not only getting food. But, they're getting the sort of food he likes too!

  Beats the shit out of a fucking Goldfish, doesn't it?

That 'Cute Little Fucker', Tonight

" What About Mine?!? " 

Friday, August 24, 2018

Rats; An Interesting Observation .....

  So, as everyone would have heard before, there's an old wives tale that says; If ye catch a rat and set fire to its tail,  then let it go? It'll run, screaming, through the burrow system. Its screams will so terrify all the other rats, they'll get the fuck out of Dodge forth with.

  Hold that thought a minute .....

  So, I have my (Licensed) bird traps down, out on the track. I'm baiting them with wild bird feed and, lo and behold, all this seed and stuff, right there on the floor, attracted rats. 

  I've stood here, gazing out at the traps, only to see a solitary rat sneak out from the hedge bank. Grab a mouthful and dash back to cover. Obviously, as the days went by, so I was eventually seeing anything up to three at a time out there.

  Now, this Is the countryside. Rats are perfectly natural inhabitants of the hedgerows. I'm effectively offering them a free meal. What should I expect? Chaffinches and rats.

  However, these rats aren't bothering me. They're living in the bank. Not coming into my cottage. Why then would I even bother poisoning them? I can't kill every rat in fucking Leitrim!

  Then, one day, about a week ago, I look out and, fuck me. I've caught a fucking rat! There he is, jumping around in one of my Potter cage traps. The fuck am I gonna do now?

  See, we're not allowed any sort of hand guns here. Not even an air pistol. Might as well be a .357 Magnum. Because we have no law / concept of 9 pound muzzle velocities.

 Here, an air gun can be what ever power it can be made to. My mate had a standard air rifle that put out about 35 on the chronograph! He had to get a Firearms License for it though. Just like for a .223.

  Anyway, obviously then, an air  pistol pellet was out of the question. An Irishman would simply drop the trap in water. Some wanker off THL would probably tip the rat out to his waiting terriers and film it for face fuck.

  Me? Being all grown up now, and being at peace with the size of my dick? I just decided, fuck it: I'll let the fucking thing go.

  So, I locked the Dogs in. Sauntered out there and approached the trapped rat. And that fucker started doing the wall of death round the inside of that cage. Screaming its fucking lungs out!!! Poor thing was fucking terrified.

  What ever. I carefully (Very carefully! These traps aren't mean't for rats. Mind fingers!) opened the trap and el ratto wasted no time at all in coming out like Usane Bolt and virtually Leaping over the hedge bank in a single bound. Quite possibly still screaming.

  Know what? I haven't seen a single fucking rat since! How curious is that?!


Tuesday, August 21, 2018

I Think I'll Do The Lottery ....!

 Jesus Fucking Wept! How lucky was That?!?

I've had some bird traps out on the track, all week. Only, Pat's due down here. So, I just went out to fire and move them out of the way. They're like wire mesh boxes. Called " Potter Traps ". (I'm a licensed Ringer, for anyone unaware of that)

  So, I've fired them. Then started picking them up and putting them aside, by the gate post to the meadow. Reaching under the bungy cord that's actually an electric gate way.

  And, my bare arm (I have the right to bare arms too!) brushed the bungy. A moment later, I realised what had just happened. Consternation ensues!

  I've checked the switch on the post. Fine. I've come in here and looked at the control box. Evil, orange light flicking, as it sends a massive pulse of jolts down that fence line. Something's wrong, somewhere.

  Grabbed my Fence Tester and went out there. Horror of Horrors!!! The tester lit up like Blackpool Illuminations ~ pre Sharia! Fucking great Thump coming down the line, every short second.

  And I'd just brushed it, with my bare upper arm. And fuck all had happened!

  By some fucking miracle, my skin had touched that vile torturer in the split second between those massive, Fucking Painful, full power jolts!!!

  How lucky was that?!? I wouldn't voluntarily touch that fucking thing again for fifty quid! Might buy a lottery ticket though! Must be my lucky day!

Friday, August 17, 2018

Never, When Ye Have A Camera ....!

  So; The Farrier was due up, this morning. Pat and I herded Rosie and the donkeys into the crush pen and were just sort of hanging around, kicking stones. Then Pat says; " What's that? Up the track ~ Hare? " 

  I stepped out and had a squint. Hard to make out what the fuck it was, to be honest. Hundred bloody yards away, with my eyes. But, yeah, I managed to discount Piney or fox. When it finally loped off, it was clearly a hare.

  Lovely to see one's back. Haven't seen one in years. Not that I've been out looking. But, there it was. Random, chance meeting. Nice.

  Farrier came. Nice young lad. Very good with the horses. Fast. Thorough. Efficient. But, patient and gentle. Well and truly earned his €60.00 in an hour. And that was including the dash to the van, when the monsoon hit.

  Anyway; Horses back in the meadow. We all went our ways. I got back to manning my Potter Traps and hammering the chaffie flocks. Nipping out to fetch them in. Ringing. Recording. Photographing, for my boss to check.

  At 20:00, this evening, I processed what would be todays last few chaffies. Put my ledger, scales and camera in their proper places, for tomorrow. Carried the three traps back out to my spot.

  And saw the hare, bounding across the top of the meadow, past the horses! How delightful! Not only had she stayed around. She'd come down onto 'my' land. Right where I'd been admiring a wild, cock pheasant, only a couple of hours ago.

 But, wait! She wasn't stopping! She came under the tape and was heading down my way! Hundred and twenty yards. Now, closing fast! Fuck!

  I'd stood up, from placing the traps. Now, I stood straight and still. Trying not to allow our eyes to meet. And in she came. Gently zig zagging. At times heading directly at me!

  I could barely believe it was happening. I wondered if she'd just run across my feet! Then, barely twenty foot away, almost parallel with me, in the meadow, she stopped.

  She sat up and looked straight at me. Light, chocolate brown little thing. (Believe me; Ye'll never appreciate an Irish Hare till ye've actually seen one, in the flesh. In Eire.)    

  And I felt the emptiness of my fucking fleece pocket! Why hadn't I just slipped that fucking camera into my pocket?! Using it all day. Now, now that I could desperately do with it ....!

 And she dropped back down. Turned. And loped off, back up the way she'd came. Exited the meadow and fucked off round the corner, at the top of the track.Back to where she'd been, earlier.

  Sorry I've no photo's. Nothing to do with ye not believing me otherwise. I'd just so like to have personally shown ye one of these weird little, chocolate  brown, rabbit like things we just call 'Irish Hares'.

Sunday, July 29, 2018

I've Reset My Virginity!

  With the amount of stress and fucking misery in my life, of late, I thought how I don't want this place turning into some litany of woe. But, reasons to be cheerful aren't exactly abounding, right now.

  Anyway, it occurred to me that I never mentioned one, absolutely stellar, life changing, mega event that sprung itself on me, a short while back. Thought I'd mention it here. Try to brighten the place up a bit.

 As most, on THL, will know; I'm a licensed Ringer. I'm trained and authorised and it's now, pretty much, 'What I Do'. Been at it years, now. I love it!

  I'm doing my bit for science. It keeps me out of mischief. And, my obsession with Starlings and putting up nest boxes for them is empirically proving to strengthen the local flock. Year on year.

 I ringed Eighty young, this year! When I got here, the entire flock only numbered that!

  When not getting drenched in starling shit though, I both hunt for nests and also put out cage traps for small birds. When my boss (my Trainer) comes up here, we have the mist nets out, and there's no telling what might get into them.

 The most memorable bird I've ever handled and processed was a Tree Creeper. In ye hand, that bird is just mind bending! It's like a little, many faceted jewel! The brilliance and beauty of the colours just blow ye away.

  I've proven quite good at finding Black Caps nests. Amazing how many there are, just around my place. But, believe it of not, the one bird I've had an absolute hard for, for all these years, is the Wood Pigeon! Yes! I dream of finding a woodies nest, so I could ring the squabs.

  Trouble is, woodies are borderline Uncommon, in Leitrim! One year, I saw a flock of Five. That was a Red Letter Day! Amazing sight!

  It's not that though. Something in me has just clicked for a woodie. A nest would be my only chance at one. And such nests would be Very few and far between. Still, ye've got to have a dream.

  So, a while back, I'm chatting to the boss. Trying to come up with more ways of catching more birds. We decided I'd have nothing to loose by putting down some of my waste canary seed, out on the track. In view of my window.

  This I did. And was soon gratified to start seeing small seed eating birds coming to it. Then, the other week, I bought a couple of kilo's of generic, " Wild Bird Food ". Plenty of bigger sorts of stuff in it. I started using that instead. Just a cup full a day.

  Eventually, knowing the track was safe from 'surprise visitors', I decided to put a couple of Potter Traps out there. Small, very basic cage traps. Wire mesh box that the bird walks into and the door comes down.

  Sitting here, minding my own business. Drifting round the fora. Glancing out every five minutes or so. Figuring I'd probably end up with one of the small band of chaffinches that so like the seed. Finished reading a post. Stood up. Looked out. Shit myself!

  There's only a fully grown, absolutely genuine, fucking great Wood Pigeon out there!!! And he's enjoying my seed, as he wanders round and round the two back to back traps! Please God ....!

  It was murder, because, with how the traps were arranged, when he walked round the back and down past one, it Looked like he was walking Into it! But, nothing happened and he'd wander right around them again. Pecking up seed as he went.

  Eventually though, I actually stood here and Watched as that beautiful muvva fukka walked right into one of my traps! The door came down. He gave a little jump. And I was Screaming at the Dogs to get in here, as I did a Usain Bolt for the gate!

  The rest is history. The feeling of just opening my hands, and hearing the " Clap! Clap! Clap! " of his wings, as he flew away? Just indescribable!

  I was shaking and breathless, when I rang my boss. What an experience! As I said to him; I'd finally 'lost my wood pigeon virginity'! At last! Mission accomplished. I was Glowing!

  Then, I said I needed a New 'Holy Grail'. Something else to day dream of ever getting to process. Something we get here. That could fit into my larger Potter Traps. And which it would just be an absolute rush to have the privilege of  Processing.

  Male Sparrow hawk might seem the obvious. But, I passed over them without hesitation. With a steely eye gazing off into the future. I just Knew which bird I must reset my virginity to.

   And, with the strangest of ironies, for a retired, rural pest controller; Would ye believe, the next 'Bird of My Dreams' is a Hooded (Gray) Crow?!? 

 Yep! Killed them, out of hand, all these years. Now, the thought of processing one and letting it go, with my ring on? Makes my mouth go dry!

 I've moved the traps aside, for now. Because Pat's coming down the track quite a bit. But, this evening, I glanced out there and my heart nearly stopped!

  YES! Stood there, right in front of my unset traps, eyeing up the bird feed. Gray fucking Crow!!!

  Game on!!!

Saturday, July 28, 2018

Read It And Weep ....!

  If this doesn't Seriously get ye in the gut? There must be something wrong with you!

"  Towards the end of WW2, trained elephants at Ueno zoo in Tokyo were starved to death. Throughout the ordeal, they repeatedly performed their tricks in fruitless attempts to get fed. "

  I've read some shit, in my time. With the internet being what it is? I guess it's easy to become inured to a lot. But, fuck me! I could really have done with never having heard of That!

  That's gonna fucking haunt me for the rest of my days. And that's a fact.

  There's a full and scholarly article, going into deep detail about it, Here. I'm not reading that shit though. 

  I Like Japan. A lot of their shit fascinates me. The girls, obviously, are, to me, the most gorgeous creatures to walk the earth.

  But, there's aspects of the place that just fuck me up. What sort of mind set could possibly of just allowed that to happen? 

Jesus fucking wept.

Friday, June 29, 2018

Hay Harvest.....!!!!!

  We had a hay harvest, this year!!! Eight fucking bales on the acre outside my gate! Round bales FTW!  I literally stood there, leaning on the gate and watched as, in under ten fucking minutes, a tractor whizzed round, sucking the ground clean and spewing out eight bails!

  Fucking brilliant! Going for square ones would have got 180. That's One Hundred and Eighty Times we'd have to drag the fucking things aside, to allow the baler room.

  As the square baler towing tractor circles the meadow, it basically pops out bales directly onto where it'll need to drive on its next circuit. This  means ye need a team of hearty lads to drag or chuck the fuckers out of his path.

  Hundred and eighty times we'd then need to lug them to spots all over the meadow. Lift and load 180 poxy fucking bales into exact stacks, seven foot high! Then, pull 180 vile, evil, soul destroying fucking stacked bales apart and load them onto a trailer.

  Drive them down to my stable and guess what we'd have to do?! Sychronised mate dodging, as we weave in out of the stable door, 180 fucking times! Hoisting them right above our heads! To jam them in to the roof!

  No. Fuck No! I sucked my gums as the roundies shot out. Tomorrow, two tractors will come and 'fork lift' them. Rush them off to store. Two guys. Four trips. Shit ton of gorgeous, lovely, secured for the horses fucking hay! All dropped off into the back of one of Pat's sheds!

  When the horses come back? Pat will bring one. I'll open the gates to my newly concreted pen. Pat drives his shiney, new, red Massey Fergusson in. Backs the forks into my one round bale hay shed and off he goes!

  Fuck long, sweltering days of extreme labour! Half the young bucks of the surrounding neighbourhood swarming and sweating on the meadow for most of a day, handling those poxy little (Actually, neither so little Or fucking Light!) square fuckers I used to think were so handy!

  Stand and watch that tractor for ten minutes. Come in for a cuppa tea and get on with me life! Fucking Sorted!!!

   I don't know what else happened, differently, this year either? But, Pat used to be dragging me out there, for a couple of Long evenings. To manually fluff up the vile, labour intensive shit with a pitch fork?

  Clags (Horse Flies) feasting on ye! Ye nights and days an Agony of ripping off ye own skin!

  This time? I vaguely recall Pat ringing me, asking me to strip off the tape, from this end of the meadow. Because he had a man coming to cut the HAY! What; Under a week later? I haven't lifted another finger. And there's eight bales out there!

  What? Bit over board? Can't see what the fuss is about? Listen: We haven't Had a fucking Hay Harvest in probably three or five years, now. 

  Hoping and praying ye can grab enough of the limited supply of inflated priced stuff, coming up from the Deep South? Year after year?

  Or actually be faced with the Very real possibility of having to Shoot ye fucking horses, because there's simply no hay available, for love or money? Believe me! That shit focuses the fucking mind!

  This shit Blows the mind!!! 

Monday, June 18, 2018

Pesticle ~ RIP

  Early hours of this morning. Complications, due to Pancreatic Failure. 

  It was extremely sudden. Extremely traumatic. Thank fuck I have a gun and so was able to finish it quickly.

My eternal gratitude to Pat, who came down here, cleaned up the spot I've never looked at. And buried her for me, in my grave yard, up back. 

Now, I have some serious fucking drinking to get back to. 

Thursday, June 7, 2018

Memories .....

  So, I'm out the ditch, today. Glorious fucking day. Sun's shining. Pesticle's just scarfed down a good breakfast of her special grub. I'm at peace with the world. And, I'd probably just been watching some pretty fucked up shit on line too. As is my want.

There I am then, gazing up through the sun dappled leaves, dropping my guts, and letting my mind drift happily. I thought things in the Gypsy language. I thought back to the times when I knew people I could  talk to, in Gypsy.

  Inevitably then, I thought of Her. How we could communicate, freely and fluently, openly, yet secretly, in a crowded room. I thought about how, a decade or so back, word had reached me that she'd love to get back in touch. And I thought of what she did.

  Forty years ago, this was. We were together, then. Living together as a couple. Probably sharing love and libido in about equal measures. She had ten years on me. But, was thus a woman in her prime. I was a young buck.Well matched.

  Looking back? I s'pose we, basically, couldn't keep our hands off eachother. Bang at it on the drop of a hat. " Any time. Any place. Anywhere. " Spontaneous and frantic.

 At night, in bed though, at least things could Start more relaxed and gently. And, I guess, looking back? I've really always been a gentler lover. I liked to ease into the actual business. The porn film stuff could kick off, once we were fired up.

  I remember snuggling up against her back. Nuzzling and nibbling her neck. The trace of perfume warm and pleasing. Her auburn hair warm against my lips. My fingers brushing her thigh. My hardness pressing against her, from behind. 

  A gentle, urgent announcement. A request. Moving my hips rhythmically. Firmly. Are we both as ready ....?

  Then, she let rip with The Most fucking disgusting fart!!! The noise was like a sustained burst from a twin Vickers fucking machine gun! "BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPP ". Jesus Fucking Christ!!!

  No stench, thank god. But, the sheer level and force of wind expellation, coupled with the proximity? It bitch slapped my poor dick like a boxers fucking speed bag! The most revolting feeling I've ever experienced. Before or since!

  It led to an exchange of words. From me, at least. She couldn't breath for fucking laughing! Dirty cunt.

So, yeah; I know ye likely still out there, Mo'. Ever read this and ye'll know. At least I too can laugh about it now. Took me forty fucking years though! 

Scarred me for life, that did. FFS.

Wednesday, May 30, 2018

Piss Head On The Piss ....!

" Spay and Neuter! " They cry. " If your Dog could talk? He'd definitely say " Oooh, Dad! Pul Eeease get these balls off! " In fact, it's now considered down right fucking freaky Not to get a Dog (Or bitch) sexually mutilated, the moment ye get it.

  What they Don't tell ye is that fucking around with a bitches tubing brings an extremely good chance of it rendering her incontinent for the rest of her fucking life! Pesticle wasn't one of the lucky ones, I'm afraid.

  The number of times I've been sitting here. Pesticle sat on my lap, gazing out the window. Then, completely without warning, I'd feel a sense of warmth on my thigh.  Pesticle had been " Dripping ", again!

  She's a bit prone to Urinary Tract Infections too. Last one was a doozy, so I took her down to the vet's, who gave her Anti Biotics. They, in turn, fucked up her pancreas. Now, she's a complete bag of bones and is still spontaneously voiding her bladder!

  Pancreatic Supplements have proven a complete waste of money. So, on veterinary advice, I've just bought a ninety euro sack of Hills' finest. This is Pesticle we're talking about. What Pesticle needs? Pesticle fucking well gets!

  Hullo. I think she may have just peed, again. She's snoozing, on my futon. It's okay. I've covered the futon in thick plastic sheeting and have a cloth to wipe that with, as the need arises.

  Pancreas trouble causes the most violent and perfectly liquid shits, see? Poor sausage is dehydrating herself. Thus drinks stupid amounts of water. And her body just can't hold it in. They fucked her little valve up and now it just runs out of her. She's not even aware when it happens.  

  'Last night' / this morning, she pissed the bed. My bed. She sleeps in my arms, on the bare plastic. Quilt mopped That up. No matter. Lovely day. I hung it out and it's dry now. Probably rinse and repeat. 

  What ever. She's my Snuggle Pup and I adore her. She's happy in herself. Relishes her grub and wags her tail ecstatically when ye'd expect a display of unbridled happiness from a happy little Dog. No way I'd banish her from curling up in my arms at night.

  A rough day, for me, yesterday. And leaping out of bed after about an hours kip, this morning, took its toll on me. Fucking glorious day though. So, I went and stretched out on the ground for a bit. But, the sun was too bright in my eyes.

  Gave it best and came back in here. Flopped down on the futon. Four, mad Dogs jockeying for  best positions, around Dad. Balzac's proving a right bugger for trying to get a cuddle! Pesticle, last I was dimly aware, sort of curled up by my head. And I was out.

 Suddenly woke up to the strangest sensation. Right side of my face. Lifted my head and shrieked in absolute horror! The hot piss was in my ear. In my eye. Pouring out of my beard! Pesticle had peed, again. And my head was laying in it.

Wednesday, April 25, 2018

Let's All Have A Laugh ....!

 I'm having a Really Fucking Stressful time, at the moment. What with one thing and another.

  Happily, I have my own little Safe Space. Several times a day then, I just open and watch this clip that I found. And, every time, I laugh till I fucking cry!

  Hit the Full Screen button, to bring up the viewing size. This sort of funny needs sharing! Enjoy!

Wednesday, February 21, 2018

I'm Back ~ With A Vengeance!!!

 Who's been upsetting me now ....? Well, take ye fucking pick, really. Fienna Faile, Eires answer to the British Tories, to start with. 

  Moment Enda and his crew got in, price of a Dog Licence fucking near doubled, over night. They now insist ye micro chip every Dog. What? And have Balzac walking around with a big fucking weepy bubble between his shoulder blades, like Pesticle and Dinger? Not gonna fucking happen!

  Then, of course, they went all IDS on us and started ravaging any welfare payments they could make disappear. I used to qualify for various things. Now, my electric bills scare me to fucking death as they seemingly just keep multiplying by 100's %

  The one, last thing left to me then was what they now called the " Household Package ". To me, this simply mean't a free TV licence. Fucking whoopy! I Do feel privileged! Wouldn't want to watch TV, if I fucking knew how to!

  Had bought a couple of the things, in the past, though. To play my Play Station on.  Big, fuck off 32" Hitachi. Then, a little CRT set. Both long since fallen out of use and abandoned. Never gave them a lot of thought anymore.

  Then, I get this very badly written, obviously very personal letter from some bitch who patently takes her work home with her. Cunt works for the government and is clearly all twisted up because I told them where to stick their, worthless, fucking " Household Benefit Package ".

  Next thing ye know, this other stupid fucking letter turns up, " Ordering " me ~ Literally! In Big Letters! ~ to buy a fucking TV licence!!! That fucking pulled my string!

  I took both those worthless, irritating, fucking things out to my little private dump. Then, as is my nature, I thought I'd make a proper job of things. 

  And, as ye do, these days, I filmed it, for you lot to enjoy! 

Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Shame! ..... Shame!!! ..... SHAME!!!!!

  Oh god. Did I fuck up?!?

  I never took my med's, last night. Today? Forget It! Even as the booked taxi's pulling up, I'm making a dash for the fucking ditch! Just couldn't face dropping that load off in Jim's.

  So, yeah, I'm in town. Off med's. I'm So fucking hyper; Even I'm apologising  for myself! I'm bouncing off the fucking sky!

  Oh, and it's a blue sky! With fluffy clouds. And a yellow sun. And it's brought the Girls out! Everywhere I look, I'm seeing attractive females. And I have a Horn on the size of the fucking Cape! Because, with these tab's? Ye can't cum!!!

  I am Deadly fucking serious! One time, Years ago, when I was first on this shit? I called an escort out. Fucking Lovely, she was! (Well, they generally are. Rotten toothed slappers with more tracks than British Rail don't get to qualify as Escorts) 

  Fucked the skin off her! God alone knows how many condoms we got through ~ seems they have a 'life'. I was only fucking. Not cumming. But, she kept replacing the condom. Anyway .....

  Yeah. By about the forty minute mark, she's basically Begging me to blow my load and " I'll only cost ye for the half hour rate? " But, no. I was at it again. Balls deep. Going away like one of Isaac  Singer' finest! 

  Moaning girl. Smell of burning rubber. Portishead's " Dummy " on repeat play. I took it to the wire! When I finally exploded? It was like all semblance  of a vertebrae pumped and gushed and drained from me. I was left, like a gasping slug.

  I dimly remember that poor girl staggering towards the door. Knees buckling.

  But, anyway, yeah ..... So; I'm so fucking manic, I've had Four fucking pints, by the time Tommy's got me, jabbering, into the jeep. 

  And, what's the first thing I see? An Arse! But, fuck me, in my heightened state of awareness (And, don't forget, we're playing that horn!) This arse is ~ I don't believe I'm about to type this. But, it's honestly the only way I can think of to express the feeling! ~ This chicks arse is Everything, to me!

  Well, of course, she's walking Away from us. Hence I could only see her from Behind. And I'm all but Screaming to Tom; " Look At the fucking Arse on that bitch, Tom!!! For Fuck Sake!!!" I'm un medded, remember! I am Not Normally like this!

  Then, just as we've drew level with her, and I'm hoping to see the whole presentation? She's turned a sharp fucking right, into the car park! All I'm getting is that Arse! I mean, God, yeah! I could have sucked it! But, I want to see the tits and face too! 

  I'm Comp Layt Layy fucking pumped, by now. More throbbing pulse than a carotid artery during an embolism! And we're heading north, as my quarry's just turned east?

  " Fucking Turn Around, Bitch!!!!! "  I swear to god, it was just a thought. An explosion between synapses. I had no idea, let alone intention, to scream that aloud!

  Blue sky. Fluffy clouds. Warm sun.  Tommy had the fucking window down .......... 

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

The Hole ....! (Part One)

  Lads; I've happened upon a hole. I've had a life time of getting up close and personal with holes. Every size. Every sort. Everywhere. 

  This one left me mind blown. Nothing about it screamed, 'The Obvious'. And, the best bit is? I could genuinely, seriously do with a far younger person to come and look at my hole. I don't know how much more I can take, at my age.

  Here's the story. In full, graphic detail. It's Not for the hobbyist. This shit's for my fellow, hardened pro's. Or, maybe those with a certain predilection? Use ye discretion, before proceeding ..... 

  So, I'm in my ditch, the other day. One I live my handle by. Dropping my guts onto what will now, steadily ~ unless we have a flash monsoon / flood ~ become my very own, 'Summer Manure Heap'.

  My ditch forms one side of the boundary of my property. It's My ditch. I can sit above it and shit into it. Only, if I climb out of it, on the other side? I'm on my neighbors land. And, these days? With this new lot? That ain't gonna fucking happen!

  So, forgive the detailed lead up. (Fuck me; If ye didn't Like detailed, lengthy shit? Ye wouldn't be here! Yeah?) There I am, doing what I'm there for. Suddenly, Balzac appears, in the compound side. Spots Dad. Starts trying to get to me! 

  Well, Balzac's only a fraction of what he'll grow to be, yet. And, being a brand new pup of just eight weeks? He barely knows his own name yet. He certainly doesn't understand shit like;

  " Balzac! Fuck off! Stay there! ..... NO! Don't slip through that fucking stock fencing!!! "

  " OMFG!!! Balzac! Don't Get Down There!!!!!  Ye'll be in shit as I shit all over ye! "

  " Where the fuck are ye?! Please Fucking God! Don't sneak round the back. Jump in the ditch and get amongst it from That direction!!! "

  And, all this time, this completely unpredictable puppy is scooting about the small space. No collar. No recall. No sense of what's going on. And I'm trying to finish what I came there for.

  Amazing! Did the work. Finished the paper work. Had somehow managed, by voice alone, to keep this scatter brained, excited pup out of the ditch! Fastened my belt and bent over to grab him .......... And saw, with abject horror, my glasses slip from my shirt pocket .....

 Now, a bit of 'engineering' fact about my ditch. This is all relevant, I promise you: My property is all on a slope. The ditch runs Down along the border. My actual 'Out House' is built straddling the ditch. The ditch, directly beneath the concrete structure, is itself lined with concrete.

  Think of a six and half foot tall tower block. With a car park below it. Open back and front. And, to the front, there's a concrete tunnel. The rain water flows down, from the back. Washes what ever's on the concrete, car parking, base. Takes it through that tunnel .....

  And there, due to a natural, down hill, lowering of the land. No doubt aided by a century or two of dropping waters effect, it's formed a small, deep pool. I call it my 'Cesspit'. Because, basically, Everything that plops down into that tends to 'be' there, till it's broken up and fed further down the ditch .....

  And my fucking glasses dropped, like an Olympic fucking medalist,  straight in there!!!!!

  Let's take a break here. It's late. I've other distractions. Ye've had enough to plough through. I just wanted to give ye an ~ maybe all too real? ~ picture of the environment we're dealing with here.

  In Part Two, for those who stick with it ~ hopefully those of experience, who can follow what ever clues I may be throwing up here. I'll explain the mission to retrieve my glasses.

  And how That led to my discovering this absolutely Intriguing fucking hole!

Sunday, June 18, 2017

Balzacs Beginings .....

Balzac ~ CĂșConnacht

  When I went and bought him. 'Yesterday', amidst an extremely warm and very family based welcome, I was given a vet's certificate of his first jabs. And This .....

  Of Course, I smiled my understanding and gratitude at this, one more, gesture and sure sign that these were Genuine people. 

  Pocketed the bag. And, eventually, was back in the jeep, with Tommy. Heading home, to feed my Dogs. Late ~ with all the excitement and business of the day.

  Thus, I never did think to photograph Balzac, at eight weeks old, sampling what I consider his first ever Dog Food. As long as I'm alive? He'll never again taste those carcinogenic pellets of recycled, cancer ridden Dogs. 

  The shit they call " Nuts " here. Mutts nuts, guts and the fucking drugs pumped into them before they died?!  " All In One Dog Food "? More like All Dogs In One Dogs Food! FFS!

  No. Balzac has landed on his feet, of course. In the last twenty hours, he's emptied himself of the, now, usual half ton of putty coloured. Putty consitencied, foul crap I see on the streets of town ~ and the main track here.

  No vet will ever need to 'Express His anal glands'. Or 'Descale His teeth'! He now eats Lumps of Fresh, Raw, Human Grade, Lamb Ribs and Belly Skin. No bowls necessary! LOL!

  And, how does that taste, Balzac?

 " I Like This, Dad! "

   My Dogs learn, from the off, that they need to be able to bite and smash flesh and bone just to survive from day to day. 


Saturday, June 17, 2017

Nigger, RIP. Long Live Balzac!!!!!

If I made up the shit I'm about to tell ye? Ye'd be ~ justifiably ~ saying; " Shut up, ye prick! You hallucinating? Or just think We're all completely fucking stupid?! "

  When Did Niggy die? .......... No. I'm sorry. I really, absolutely haven't got a fucking clue! Come to that? What the fuck Day is it, today?!  I fucking swear to ye; Put a gun to Pesticles head and I Genuinely wouldn't have the vaguest notion. I Genuinely Don't Know!

  All I know is; Things got bad here. I finally lost poor Niggy. He was in the ground that same day. I posted here. People sympathized. I lost control of the place .....  Maybe I just 'Lost Control, completely? I've really no idea.

  I just remember last night / early hours of this morning. Laying there, on my futon. Arm around the sleeping Pesticle. And all I can think about is a Dog. I Need another Dog!

   Maybe it's that four is my magick number? Maybe I was just sick of glancing round for 'The other one'. when I let them out. Missing. 

  And, I'm fucking laying there, and all I can think of is a free ad's site. I'd pondered Pounds. Local one are a bunch of cunts. That's why I went all the way to Louth, for Niggy.  Not really in the financial position go go taxiing around the fucking country again.

  Couldn't sleep. Just laying there. Staring through the ceiling. A Dog. A Dog. A fucking Dog ....!

  Pesticle woke up. She seemed ready to get up. So I did. God knows what the time was. I never even glanced at the clock. Turned the machine on. Fuck THL, the Irish Forum. What I term as 'Reading the Papers' 

  I Literally googled straight to the free ad's. Dogs. Connaught. Started scrolling through page after page of Cockapoo's. Cavichons. Collies. Collies. Collies! Fucking Collies!!!!! Swiftly diverted my eyes from any Black Lab types .....

  And then, I found him! What A Fucking Dog!!! Eleven month old " Crossbred ". Few miles from here. No price. Described as " Watchful, but playful. "

  Fantastic looking creature! Had a Lot of that Husky thing going on. TALL, Rangy, Long legs ....!  But; They were as thick as mine!!!

  He reminded me of le Ding. My beloved ~ sadly Not so fucking spring chicken now! 'Secret Weapon'.  Same, pointy ears. That Malinois  thing going on, with the head and face. But .....

  Absolutely Stunning creature! Those Legs! Like fucking tree trunks! The legs of a Bear!

  And the fucking Skull on him!!! It was like someone had taken a boulder, Then just added these pointy ears. A pair of sweet eyes. And stuck a pointy muzzle on the front. To make a Dogs face out of it. 

  But, fuck me! What a Dog!!! 'Thanks for all the calls. Only after six.'  I could barely believe he'd still be available. I figured I'd have to wait till 18:01 to call. 

  I scrolled on. Thinking about that absolute specimen of a Dog. Then, I read what I'd honestly and genuinely never believed I'd Ever fucking see in print! le Dingo's breeding!!! Some cunt had actually gone and fucking repeated the crossing that produced my Legendary Dog!!!

  And there were Two fucking males available. Eight weeks old!!! I swear to fucking god; I was shaking!

  And, that's where is all sort of got 'emotional'! My mind was absolutely Ravaging itself! I wanted a Dog. Not an eight week pup, FFS! And that Beast of a thing ....! These pups favoured the cut of the bitch too. Le Ding favours the sire .....

  I went out and rung some late starling chicks. I had a sly beer. I rang my Boss and babbled, and enthused, and back peddled, and ran shit past the both of us. All the time, looking at that Animal, which one could have called " Bodie ".

  And this pair of identical, two month old babies. One of which could possibly become " Balzac ". The continuation of, quite simply, one of the finest Dogs I've ever owned. Quite possibly the Last one I'll ever own!

  It was those legs that finally did it. And that subtly massive, fucking head. It was Very subtle! Crafty as fuck. If ye didn't know ye Dogs inside out? That thing might well have seemed like a Husky / Malamute / Fuck Knows, to ye.

  Naah. I cracked it! Fucking Akita in that mix! Jap or Yank? They're both all over here now. And That fucking thing was likely half bred. Husky / Akita? Very possibly! 

  And ye think I'd be bringing an eleven month old speed freak, crossed with a psychotic schizo anywhere Near this happy fucking house?! No! Slow and ageing Ding. Soft as a marshmallow Pesticle? Fuck knows about Evil Little Dog!

But, I'd soon be burying Another fucking Dog here. Before shooting the one coming up the chain at me. And dumping the cunt in the ditch!

  Let That fucker get flogged on as somebody else's problem. This is mine:

  Getting to grips with the cuteness overload which is sleeping under my desk!!!

  That's " Balzac "! Expect to soon be sick and fucking tired of the photo's, films and reports on him! 

  If I weren't a more level headed type? Shit like this would possibly have me wondering if there really Are Gods out there! 

Thursday, June 15, 2017

Niggy Is Gone.....

  I'm so fucking pissed ~ literally drunk ~ I can't see myself typing a word of fucking sense for a day or three.

He's already in the ground. Up in my grave yard. He'll have his grave stone, with its plaque, soon.

  I never thought I'd be using his, before the others I have lined up here. 

My, much mentioned, neighbor  and friend, Pat, has been an absolute fucking Angel. Throughout. 

I've written that in the hope that his kids may, one day, come across it. Recognise it. And, maybe, get some inkling of the standard of man their Father is / was. 

  Right now though? I've got to go into mourning. 

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Pesticle Is Completely Insane! ~ Today, She Proved It ....!

  Pat was round, yesterday, with a bale of hay. I couldn't believe my eyes, when I went out there to greet him! I've not seen the man in weeks now, as he's been extremely busy.

   I mean, I've seen him in the distance. Out on the land. Governing JCB's and teams of men. Doing the stuff he finds to do out there. But, I've not actually spoken to him, face to face, for ..... could be pushing a month, I guess?

And, yesterday, having requested a bale, and glimpsed his little red tractor approaching the top gate, I went out there. Fucking Hell!!!!! There he is, hammering down to the pen in a gleaming, brand spanking new, straight off the production line Massey Ferguson!!!

  Anyway, I'll try to get a shot of that, some time. Bright red, of course. Black and gray trimming. Cleanest fucking tractor in Leitrim!

  Meanwhile, he asked why I didn't let the horses out on the paddock? We have the meadow taped off. Paddock's dry enough now. Rosie doesn't really tend to wreck it, like she does the meadow, for some reason. Why not, indeed.

  So, this afternoon, latish, I went down there and opened the small gate for them and out they went. My walking round their side of the stables probably encouraged the donkeys to move ahead a little. I left them to it and slipped back into the compound.

  Obviously, Pesticle's waiting there for me. She greets me. Then, she puts her face through the bolt hole in the gate and, tail wagging ten to the dozen, examines her friends, what ever she sees the horses as, as they inch past, eating the plentiful grass out there.

  I just lean on the gate and enjoy the same sight she has. Rosie and Donks. Moving slowly, one step at a time along the fence.  Ripping and devouring the grass before them.

  Then, I glance at Pesticle  ..... Fucking Dog's doing the exact same thing!!! There's quite a bit of grass there, beside the fence. Crept in under it. And, there's fucking Pesticle, studiously ripping whole fucking mouthfuls and chewing it up!

  This isn't the normal, Dog nibbling a random taste of grass behaviour we may observe a bit of, now and then. This fucking Dog is taking very slow, one foot at a time, steps in the same direction as the horses. Eating about as much fucking grass!!!

  Good seven or eight minutes I must have stood there. Just enjoying watching the horses enjoying themselves. And, that damn Dog was scarfing down the grass on her side all that time! Grazing her side of the fence, as the horses grazed theirs. I swear to god; I've never seen anything like it!

  So, there we have it. Dog's completely fucking raving! Thinks it's a fucking Horse now!

  I've always said; All my Dogs are mad. If they're not, when they come here, they bloody soon will be. le Ding is partial to the occasional nibble on my walls. And checks the hole in the door, religiously, when he enters this room.  

  Evil Little Dog has her, legendary. Commando Creep Crawl. Is also given to sitting, staring at me. And has developed a set of weird vocalisations for the moment I start stirring in my pit.

  Niggy has completely fixated on Pesticle. His life seems to revolve around grooming her. When he's not doing that, he grooms himself, rubbing his throat on various surfaces, and making some noises of his own.

  Pesticle? Innocent, harmless, happiest little Dog. The absolute light of my life. 

  But, fuck me; That impersonation of a horse ....! The Dog's fucking lost it!

Saturday, March 18, 2017

Todays Crossword .....

  Fucking Priceless! This is the shit ' Ditch's ' Blog exists for! So I don't have to rerelate belters like this in half a dozen places.

  First off then, the usual groundwork, which I often feel I need to put in, to bring the uninitiated up to pace:

  Marion is the part time, afternoon, bar maid at Jim's. Jim's is my Local. 

  I love Marion, for her mind. I mentally block any thoughts of her body, by default! I'm absolutely certain this thing is mutual. We're both of a certain age. 

   There really Is some shit neither man, nor beast, wants to consider about their associates. I'm mentioning this bollocks simply to vanquish from the readers mind Any of this, Traditional 'Barmaid' shit. 

  Forget  pouting blondes, thrusting vertigo inducing cleavage beneath a smouldering stare. Marion, I'm sure she won't mind me saying, will have long since left such frivolities as " Middle Age " behind her. As have I. 

  Now? We do the crosswords. Irish Independent, as it happens. Because ye get Three crosswords in there, including the " Farmers " one. Rest of their shit goes in the stove. Pages not even opened!

  No matter though. Because I'll Never forget the fucking clue / Answer / Or Upshot! I mean, I can't exactly quote ye the " 9 Down " shit that the internet, so often, seems to demand, these days. It was there though:

  " 3 Down. Single Humped Camel. Nine Letters "

  Obviously, with animals being the absolute focus of my entire life, the answer was as natural as breathing. " DROMEDARY, Marion. "

  Marion looked a bit non plussed. I, having had a couple of my own pints, before I'd even come into town, felt a rush of the Bamber Gascoigne's and, without hesitation, went in to follow the thrust with the old twist!

  " Dromedary! 'Ship of the Fucking Desert', Marion! Peter O fucking Toole! Tea towel on the head? Laurence of the Fucking Sand Dunes?!? "

  I'm screaming this shit in her face. Because I love her. She's taking it, because she Knows she'll hand me my balls, on a plate,  by Six Across. 

  Then, just to Really assert my unquestionably Alpha Male dominance of the situation, I say:

  " I don't s'pose ye know the true name of the Two humped camel, either, do ye? Thick Fuck! " (Ye know how, the more fond of someone ye are, the more badly ye insult them. And they ~ knowingly ~ accept it)

" Bactrian, FFS! ", I yelled. So loud that the whole ~ few compatriots in the ~ bar could hear me. Marion suitably withered. A :| sort of expression about her.

  " Bactrian Camel, Marion. " Visualising one, in my minds eye. Using that memory to scream the description at Marion. " Two humps. Get them in places like Mongolia. Walk around on snow and mountains. Not fucking sand dunes! Shaggy things. Fucking great, hairy hooves! "

  There was that split second of complete silence. As time stood still. Our eyes locked. Then, Wendy, the young girl whos shift begins shortly before Marions ends, sprayed her fucking mineral water all over the bar. 

  And there's dear Marion. Still staring at me with that tight lipped look. Finally announcing; " Well, I don't know! ".

  No, love. You obviously didn't. But, Wendy did. I did. And going by the stifled sniggering? Half the fucking bar did!

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

le Ding Lives ....!

  I've just joined a Pest Control place, by invitation of an old mate. Turns out there's more old faces there than a fucking grave yard! Thus, I'm having a whale of a time and shaking many hands.  It's fucking Great, frankly. And I must sort out where Lloydy's got to!

  But, anyway, yeah; 'Matters' said something about This place. Don't think he was the only one. I've also had people from else where nudging me. Basically asking where I've got to. What I've been up to.

  Simple and honest truth? No where and fuck all! It really Is / Has Been That fucking simple! I've been quietly living my quiet life. Nothing's happened that I felt anyone would be vaguely interested in hearing about. So, obviously, I haven't said shit.

  Then, today, sitting here, minding my own business, reading some bollocks on THL, probably, I heard a nail scrape on render. I looked down, beside my chair. And my fucking heart so swelled with love ..... I took this picture:

    There he fucking is, look! Bless him! He'd crept in. Laid down next to Dad. And he was scratching the wall in his sleep. Look at his furry, pointy ears! God, I Love this fucking Dog!!!

  I just wanted to let ye know; Yes. le Ding. Dingo Dog, is Still going strong! God knows how old he must be, by now. I must have had him, what? Ten fucking years, by now?

  He's absolutely the sweetest, most wonderful natured, endearing Dog I've ever fucking had! 

   Yes, I've had Dogs that were (Are) complete little extensions of my very soul. Dogs who people referred to way above and beyond that guy on the lead. I have a photo of one of my Dogs here, Virtually a fucking shrine!

  But, le Ding is the one who torments Pestical, when the devil is in him. Who sniffs the hole in the door, as he wanders in here. Who is, and has been, the general, quiet, innocent, harmless presence about this place, virtually since I can remember. I fucking Worship him! 

  " Valentino "; When you explained, on THL, that " Dingo " needed homing, I PM'd you and told ye I'd like him. I told ye straight; He wouldn't be seeing a load of 'work', with me. But, that he'd be taken care of. 

  Frankly? My strongest vibe there was that I wouldn't be 'getting rid of' him, once he'd " Jacked " against his fourteenth fox, in a night, or what ever shit gives those little wankers a hard on about their Dogs.

  Ding ding could, obviously, destroy dinky, fragile boned little foxes, all day and night. So fucking what? The very sight of him has kept my gate clear, for Years now. Far bigger things than little foxes give this strange, vibe throwing Dog a wide berth. 

  This post is, really, going out to you, mate. In the hope that ye still out there. And doing well. And, at least, any where as happy as le Ding is. 

  He's just sighed, and shifted position on my futon. Tonight, he'll stalk about on it, till he finds just the right spot. Then, he'll lay down, on my legs, as he does ~ and has done ~ every night. 

  What I'm trying to convey here, mate ~ and I So hope you, or someone who can get this to ye is reading this ~ ..... My absolute and Eternal, heart felt Thanks for trusting me. 

  You saved le Ding, Twice. Thank You. Third time? I guess he Really hit the fucking jackpot. But, so, it seems, did I.

Monday, November 14, 2016

My Epitaph .....

  This is brilliant! I've just randomly happened across this and was smitten, straight away. 

I've no idea who " A.A " is, or was. But, I thank them. And am shamelessly stealing their words! LMFAO!

  That is just fucking fantastic!  Ditch Shitter encapsulated!

Saturday, October 29, 2016

The Best Thing Since Sliced Bread ~ Mouse Cam!

  I came across this, whilst stumbling around the internet, late at night ~ as ye do. And it's worse than any of those instantly addictive new drugs ye hear about. One look and now I can't stop going back to it!

  It's actually a wooden box with a taxidermy like diorama built into it. What appears to be a natural spot of bank is actually made of concrete over chicken wire. The holes are no more natural either. There's actually a YouTube clip showing how the guy did it. All clever stuff.

  Take a look in broad daylight and ye've every chance of finding a vole, or even a shrew having a feed in there. At night, the Wood Mice definitely hold sway. And they're as cute as fuck!

  About once a week, it seems, someone comes along and dumps a handful of peanut granules and dried meal worms in there. The local, small creatures have obviously cottoned  onto this. Now it's a right little feeding station for them. 

 There we are! 15:36 as I'm typing. Just had a look. Field Vole sitting there, having some nuts. Absolutely crystal clear and very up close. Fantastic!

  At night, they switch to really good quality infra red. Though, I must point out that this may be on a timer. Either way, it's out of kilter with the current day / night cycle and so, whilst the natural light is gone by, say, 18:00? The IR doesn't actually kick in for a couple of hours of so later. 

  When it does though? The picture quality is, again, superb. Just in black and white. And there's seldom Not a Wood Mouse to sit and watch! Dear little things.  Hullo! A shrew's in now!

  Anyway, enough of my bollocks. Get in there and take a look. If it's evening time and all dark? Come back in an hour and see.  Simon King set this up. He has various other cam's on the go too. But, I just love this one!

  Buy him a tub of meal worms, eh? What he's bringing us here beats the shit out of 99% of the crap they put on TV these days.