The Born Losers Club .....

  Must have been about, what? Thirty years ago now. I can still remember it like yesterday though. 

 (Come to think of it? At my stage in the game, I can probably remember shit from thirty fucking years ago better than I can yesterday!)

  Morning opening time, or just there after. I'm sat at the bar of my old local. Just pondering the meaningless of life. Staring through the back of the bar.

 Some stranger drifts in and takes a stool maybe one along from me. He sits there, much as myself. Chin fucking near in his glass.Long faced pair of cunts. We must've looked like two world weary horses. 

  A glance. An exchanged nod. Someone said something ..... And I'd met Bob. My spiritual oppo. A guy I think, terribly fondly, of to this day. My old, long lost mate. And co founder of " The Born Losers Club ".

  We'd exchanged a couple of words. Shit like; " Fuck it. " And, " For fuck sake! ". Then started warming to our subject as we started into the shit like; " Why the Fuck is it that Whenever I ..... "

  In no time, we were as old friends. Each of us recognising that shared bond of the kindred spirit. Spirit of the down trodden. The struggler in life. The natural born fucking loser.

  I told Bob my latest tale of woe. He listened, attentively. Never once trying to butt in, or over lay my miseries with his. He listened well. We supped some more beer, in companionable reflection. Then, dear Bob told his tale.

  I will relate it to you here, just as I heard it that day. This is Bob's story. That of a fucking loser .....


  " I was working in this fucking call centre place. We had a desk. A phone. We were meant to cold call this huge list of numbers they gave us. And sell some shit to the poor cunts who'd answer. It was completely fucking soul destroying. And I was useless at it. "

  " Uh, hullo? Mr Dwyer....? Yes. My name's Bob and I'm calling you about our great offer on the new, robotic paint roller we're ..... Hullo? Hullo ....? "

  " I was all day at this shit. Getting hung up on. Told to fuck off. I just couldn't get anyone to show any interest. To make it much worse though, there was Andy! "

  " Andy was this cunt who worked the desk directly across from me. I had to sit there, watching Him all fucking day.  He'd literally have his feet up on the desk. Lean back in his chair. Picking his teeth as he watched Me struggle and fail. "

  " Then, when he considered he felt like it? He'd say to me; 'Guess it's about time I made another sale, Bob.' And he'd dial a number; "

  " 'Hullo. Mr Edwards? Hi! Listen; I just rang to .......... Okay, Tony. I just need the last three numbers on the back ....? Great! You too, mate. Bye now!'  And the smarmy bastard wouldn't take his eyes off me as he did it. "

  " Then he'd go get a coffee ~ for himself. Sit there for another hour or so. Before telling me it's time he made another sale. Bastard. "

  " Our boss was some big, Yankee cunt. Perfectly pressed shirts. Wine bar sort. Probably drank white wine before fucking gorgeous women after his dinner break. "

  " Drawling, 'Cum urrn, Buuub! We need those orders!' That was him. I was Trying! He was just making my life even more hell. His whole attitude was really getting to me " 

  " Walked in one day. He's like; 'Don't bother taking ye coat off, Buuub. Ya outa here, man. It's over.' "

  " The bastard! Just like that. Sacked ~again. Well, fuck it. I wasn't just quietly slipping out the door This time! I was gonna leave This bastard with something to remember me by! "

  " As I opened the door, I turned round and drew my shoulders back. Looked him straight in the eye and yelled: 'Remember Viet Naam, muvva fukka!!! "


   " Cunt just looked at me and said; ' I'm Canadian, shit head.' " 



  Still love ye, Bob! Where ever ye may be. Remember:

" Semper A Ballio! "
 

Shit, Damn Ye ....!

As I was yelling, in my head, the other day .....

See; With all this fucking ice, it's an extremely, seriously dangerous business for me to get Chain Dog ~ my Rottie ~ out of her cage and out into the compound for her exercise and to have a shit. No amount of training can control a happy, healthy, youthful Dog when that door opens and she's Off. Mad fucker's so full of pent up madness, she just has to charge around a bit. I just run around behind her.

This is ok, in 'normal' conditions. I just have her on her short lead and let her have her head. I pretty much know where she'll want to go anyway. In what order. What she'll do when she gets there. And she likes to have a shit over by the compost box, or by the back gate.

Trouble is, due to the lay of the land here, her pulling me towards that area is like her pulling me onto a mine field! I'd break some major bones. Figure the rest out for yeself. Me, laying there, broken. Mad Dog bouncing around, wondering why I won't come play. She'd pull out of my hand. Chain Dog. At liberty? Fuck Right Off!

See? I have to think about this shit. I have to cover every hole. That's why I've now taken to locking her Long lead into the front gate bolt. I just hook her on there and stand back. She does her own thing, as safely as I can get it. Only, she can't reach her favoured spot in the universe. There for she won't shit.

Know what that means? Means she won't shit when and where it'd be best all round that she does. Means she'll just hold it in. And I give up freezing my bits off for half an hour and Bring her in. Another half hour and I feed her. Hey Presto! Soon as that damn flesh reaches her stomach, inside her cage, inside my room ..... She dumps! FFS!

So, few days back now, there we are. Chain Dog rushing hither and dither about the place. Sniffing at this. Pissing on that. But, simply refusing to Shit. " Shit, Chain! Just have a fucking shit, damn ye! ", I told her. She just bounded over toward me. Bum stump wagging furiously. Then shot off to peer in the window at the other Dogs, safely locked inside, away from her. She didn't shit.

I'd had days of this. Same old procedure. Inside an hour from now, I'd be screaming. Kicking her cage and bellowing at the other Dogs to get out of the room. So I could unlock Chain's cage and reach in there, plastic bag clad hand, and pick up the stinking delivery she'd make. I couldn't take much more of that.

Then I thought of Bob. Old friend of mine. A 'Dog Fighter'. Real deal too. Bob wouldn't talk on a forum, if he knew how. But, he knew his shit. And, through a course of things, I learned some weird shit through Bob. I remembered how he once told me one could make a Dog shit .....

Never! I couldn't; Could I? I mean ..... surely to fuck ....?!

But, I knew I couldn't take this much more. I was freezing to death, stood there. Wishing ~ Willing this damn Dog to Just Shit! I thought about it.

I eyed the cottaneaster hedge.

I only fuckin' did it ....!

And so did Chain Dog! " RrrMmph! ", plop, plop, plop! Right on the fucking button! Just as the doctor had ordered. Just as Bob had said. Respect to that man and his occult knowledge of things Dog!

I've learned from a Master.

Haven't had a problem with Chain since.

Oh; Except maybe catching hold of her; Once she's seen me get near that damn hedge! :D