A great hit on TV advertising, recently this delightful pooch has modelled the new canine dental product, Doggie Dentures. Since then she's found more media work as linkette for ITV's That Dog Can Dance, and worked with Phillip Schofield. Imagine!
A still from the pilot Doggie Denture commercial. Anyone remember this cuddly puppy?
In 2008 I left my regular job, returned to my roots in Cornwall and began a new life as a writer. I use this blog as a jotter, to have a think about the world around me. Wry smiles, enraged outbursts, laughter and tears: the gang’s all here ...
Wednesday, 27 March 2013
Monday, 25 March 2013
Easter: Chocolate Heaven!
I have mixed views on Easter. On the one
hand, I dislike any intrusion of religion into my life. I see the church
–particularly the Christian church in this country - as an idiosyncrasy in an
ever more secular society. I'm not the only one.
For 30 years the British Social Attitudes survey has been asking about our religious views. Its study reveals that today, well over half of us aren't at all devout and Christian faiths are dwindling. Many British people who retain spiritual beliefs aren't Christians.
I visit churches for weddings and funerals, but really these are parties. When I fill in forms requesting personal religious details, I scrawl 'N/A' and move on. If the church is given airtime to 'speak out' on issues that don't concern it or about which it knows nothing, I shout at the television.
But at least we can all enjoy Britain's annual chocolate egg-fest. Maybe it's a hangover from childhood, but I have a great fondness for the old Easter egg. The satisfying snap as the first piece of shell is broken off; picking through the sweeties inside (to make this interesting, really they have to be different); wrapping the remaining shell in its foil, as we save a fragment for later.
So over the Easter break, touch wood I'll receive plenty of eggs. Not that touching wood did much for Jesus, if you like to believe it.
For 30 years the British Social Attitudes survey has been asking about our religious views. Its study reveals that today, well over half of us aren't at all devout and Christian faiths are dwindling. Many British people who retain spiritual beliefs aren't Christians.
I visit churches for weddings and funerals, but really these are parties. When I fill in forms requesting personal religious details, I scrawl 'N/A' and move on. If the church is given airtime to 'speak out' on issues that don't concern it or about which it knows nothing, I shout at the television.
But at least we can all enjoy Britain's annual chocolate egg-fest. Maybe it's a hangover from childhood, but I have a great fondness for the old Easter egg. The satisfying snap as the first piece of shell is broken off; picking through the sweeties inside (to make this interesting, really they have to be different); wrapping the remaining shell in its foil, as we save a fragment for later.
So over the Easter break, touch wood I'll receive plenty of eggs. Not that touching wood did much for Jesus, if you like to believe it.
Saturday, 16 March 2013
St Patrick's Day: Forty Shades of Piss-Up!
St Patrick's Day is with us again.
Sales of Guinness skyrocket; around the world, Plastic-Paddy pubs give out shamrocked t-shirts and hats to everyone who manages 20 pints of the old craic-juice. Lá Fhéile Pádraig is an enjoyable ritual, a vigorous mixture of culture, extreme drunkenness and fighting. But there's a deadly ingredient too: music to make your dog howl.
I love Irish traditional music; for years I've played the tunes on my trusty flat-back bouzouki. To listen to at home, I've a collection of beautiful, exciting songs and melodies. But what I find utterly toe-curling are the Irish standards, those terrible songs which every Paddy's Night get thrashed to death. 'Irish Rover'. 'Wild Rover'. 'Gypsy Rover'. And the all-time worst, most hated of all: 'Leaving of Liverpool'.
Why do I dislike them so? Because year after year, on 17 March I've been driven quite mad by hearing them bawled out in bars by sweating pissed people who want to be everyone's friend. Thank God they generally know only half the words.
So this year let's really search our hearts, make an effort and learn some new songs. Come round to my place, I've got the really good stuff.
Sales of Guinness skyrocket; around the world, Plastic-Paddy pubs give out shamrocked t-shirts and hats to everyone who manages 20 pints of the old craic-juice. Lá Fhéile Pádraig is an enjoyable ritual, a vigorous mixture of culture, extreme drunkenness and fighting. But there's a deadly ingredient too: music to make your dog howl.
I love Irish traditional music; for years I've played the tunes on my trusty flat-back bouzouki. To listen to at home, I've a collection of beautiful, exciting songs and melodies. But what I find utterly toe-curling are the Irish standards, those terrible songs which every Paddy's Night get thrashed to death. 'Irish Rover'. 'Wild Rover'. 'Gypsy Rover'. And the all-time worst, most hated of all: 'Leaving of Liverpool'.
Why do I dislike them so? Because year after year, on 17 March I've been driven quite mad by hearing them bawled out in bars by sweating pissed people who want to be everyone's friend. Thank God they generally know only half the words.
So this year let's really search our hearts, make an effort and learn some new songs. Come round to my place, I've got the really good stuff.
Sunday, 3 March 2013
Spot The Difference (9): Plug v Nigel Farage
Leader of the strange UKIP Party, who attracted a substantial 'Fuck The Lot of You' mid-term protest vote at the recent Eastleigh by-election.
Much-loved Beano comic character who everyone's pissed themselves laughing at for more than sixty years!
This STD was first pointed out by a gentleman from Cornwall named CW - brilliant, more please.
Much-loved Beano comic character who everyone's pissed themselves laughing at for more than sixty years!
This STD was first pointed out by a gentleman from Cornwall named CW - brilliant, more please.