Woefully out of date!

 Not a blog that I have kept up to date I’m afraid! However, if you need me you can find me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/philipbradley/ or email me at philipbradley@gmail.com 

In which Mr Rustypants and I discuss dogging.

It’s been a while since I’ve transcribed one of the discussions that I have with Mr Rustypants, so here we go.

Me: C’mon Mr Rustypants, we’re going out!

Mr Rustypants: <raises an eyebrow> At this time of night? Twilight? We never go out then. What’s up?

Me: We’re hunting doggers! I want to see if there actually are any over at Norsey Woods and…

Mr. Rp: The Woods? Great! My favourite place in all the world.

Me: I thought the park was your favourite place?

Mr Rp: Yeah, it is. What’s your point?

Me: Well, you can’t have two most favourite places!

Mr Rp: Sure I can. I’m a dog, we can do that.

Me: Oh well, ok. Anyway, we’re going to see if there are any doggers.

Mr Rp: What’s a dogger?

Me: Well it’s er… umm… something people do.

Mr Rp: What, like playing with balls?

Me: Something like that yes….

Mr Rp: Something like?

Me: Well, you know when you sometimes still get a bit frisky, and you can’t help yourself….. it’s a bit like that.

Mr Rp: Are you seriously telling me we’re going up the woods to see people running around like things demented, and then jumping each other?

Me: Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that but…

Mr Rp: You’ve really lost it this time haven’t you. So are they called doggers because they act like dogs?

Me: Well no. They’re called doggers because the men who watch will say, if asked by the police, that they’re in the woods because they’ve lost their dog.

Mr Rp: They all have the same dog?

Me: No, why?

Mr Rp: So the police rock up and all these men say that they’ve lost dogs, all at the same time. Isn’t that stretching credulity a little bit?

Me: Fair point, I see your drift. Ok, the same dog. Only of course it doesn’t exist.

Mr Rp: So it’s an invisible dog?

Me: Mmm, yeah, kinda.

Mr Rp: What breed?

Me: I don’t know, it’s not my dog, I haven’t lost it! (muttering under my breath ‘Though it’s an increasingly tempting idea’)

Mr Rp: What did you just say?

Me: Me? Nothing.

Mr Rp: What about the lead? Is that invisible too?

Me: Well, I suppose so.

Mr Rp: Well, that’s not going to work is it. If they’ve lost an invisible dog, they’d need a real lead to prove that the lost invisible dog isn’t actually invisible at all, even though no-one can see it.

Me: I think you’re getting into the realms of fantasy here you know…

Mr Rp: I’m not the one that started talking about invisible dogs and people running around carparks at night…..

Me: Yes well….

Mr Rp: So, while you’re looking for invisible dogs that you can’t see, what am I going to be doing?

Me: Well, enjoying the nature bit… the animals and stuff.

Mr Rp: What, foxes? Badgers? Bats?

Me: Errr, could be.

Mr Rp: You’re suggesting that I hang around with some very dubious characters then? Well, only fair I suppose since it looks as though you’ll be trying to find idiots looking for dogs that don’t exist while carrying leads that do exist for the dogs they haven’t got.

Me: Well, they’re not the best of company… foxes eat chickens and things.

Mr Rp: Well, I eat chickens. Remember that whole one that you’d just bought and I ate inside 5 minutes? You could say I wolfed it down! Hah! Wolfed it down.. dogs, foxes, wolves, do you see what I did there? I crack me up, you’re lucky to have a dog like me.

Me: Yes… and why are you making that noise?

Mr Rp: That’s me laughing that is. You never fail to mention the chicken episode at any opportunity do you?

Me: Well, do you blame me? That was going to be lunch and supper that was….. and why are you looking at me like that? Get your paws off my knees!

Mr Rp: You had my balls chopped off. You don’t find me bringing it up at every available opportunity do you? Huh?

<Pause>

Me: Anyway…. Dogging.

Mr Rp: Yes, if we find someone, can I join in?

Me: No you most certainly can’t!

Mr Rp: It’d be very funny though wouldn’t it. They’re busy trying to pretend to be dogs, and up I rock, a real dog. Or I could creep up quietly and then woof really loudly. Scare the life out of them. This could be fun after all…

Me: Yes, perhaps not. Would you like a treat instead, and we’ll stay indoors…

Mr Rp: Just the one treat? What kind of slave driver are you? 

In which Mr Rustypants and I discuss chatup lines.

Me: Hey, Mr Rustypants, I’ve had a thought...

Mr Rustypants: Ah, I was wondering what that noise what. Can I help?

Me: Yeah, chat up lines. Do dogs have chat up lines?

Mr Rp: Ah, now I’m glad you answered that, it’s a very important subject. We do indeed have chat up lines – we’re very civilised I’ll have you know, unlike the feline devils.

Me: So, tell me all.

Mr Rp: Well, when getting ready to go out on the pull we have to get ready, like humans do. So first things first, a quick bath in the nearest mud pond so we can sneak up on the ladies without them realising. It helps to put on some doggly scent of course, Cow Pat #5 or Eau du Fox poo.

Me: Hmmm, well that explains a few things. Anyway, carry on!

Mr Rp: Well, when we meet up, it’s quite nice to go for the subtle approach sometimes. One of my personal favourites is ‘I wish you were my back garden, so I could bury my bone in you’. Or ‘If you like tennis, wait until you see my balls.’

Me: Subtle?

Mr Rp: You better believe it. When that’s softened them up a bit, you start to do the romancing. For example ‘Your eyes are like pools of doggy gravey, your paws have the aroma of digestive biscuits and your bum smells of kennel.’ That’s always a good one. Or ‘I’d ignore piles of fox poo just to get to yours’. Then there’s a passing reference to popular culture: ‘If I was called Scooby, could I Doo you?’ and ‘Of all the parks in all the world, you had to pee in mine’.  See what I did with those? I crack me up. You’re lucky to have a dog like me.

Me: I’m really regretting my curiosity. Do any of these get any better?

Mr Rp: Well, I don’t know if ‘better’ is the word I’d use. But try these; ‘you put the ‘ruff!’ in Crufts’, ‘Let’s get our owners cross so we can spend time in the doghouse together’. ‘You can round me up anytime’ – but that one is best said to collie dogs.

Me: What about those confusing times when you and another dog get it together?

Mr Rp: Oh! Glad you mentioned that. Couple of good lines I’ve had used on me ‘I’ll cover your back, if you’ll cover mine’ and ‘Does your tail wag both ways?’

Me: Enough already! Do any of these really do the trick?

Mr Rp: Well, to be honest, I generally find ‘Brace yourself girl, I’m Rustypants by name, but not by nature!’ is all that I ever need.

Me: I should have known better than to ask.

Mr Rp: Silver tongued cavalier me. But not the King Charles kind mind!

In which Mr Rustypants goes for a short walk

Mr Rustypants: Dad! Dad! Dad!

Me: I’ve told you before, it’s very disconcerting when you put your paws on my knees with your nose an inch from mine...get down!

Mr Rp: Yeah, ok, whatever. Anyway, it’s time for my walk! Let’s go! Let’s go!

Me: No, I don’t think so, you’ve hurt your paw again remember?

Mr Rp: No, that’s fine, I saw Gareth and he mended me. I’m ready to go!

Me: You’ve only had one set of tablets, 13 to go – no walks yet.

Mr Rp: Oh I’m fine! Look – I can jump up!

Me Oooph!

Mr Rp: I can jump down.

Me: Phew!

Mr Rp: I can jump up!

Me Ooooph!

Mr Rp: I can jump down. All mended. Let’s go!

Me: You were limping yesterday.

Mr Rp: No, that wasn’t me, that was the other dog.

Me: What other dog?

Mr Rp: The bad one! The one that nicks bread out of the kitchen. The one that ate your supper that time. It must have been him, fooling you.

Me: I only have one dog – that’s you.

Mr Rp: It’s an invisible dog then.

Me: I really don’t think so. Besides, if it was invisible, how would I know it had a limp?

Mr Rp: <Pause....> Anyway, it’s time for my walk.

Me: OK, short leaded one, alright?

Mr Rp: Sure, let’s go for it.

<A short drive later>

Mr Rp: What in the name of cats is that horse doing there?

Me: It’s a working horse, it’s pulling logs out of the woods.

Mr Rp: You know, I reckon I could ‘av ‘er.

Me: What? You’re serious considering trying to shag a horse?

Mr Rp: Not so loud! You’ll frighten her. And too much more of that and you’ll have a hoarse voice. Hah! See what I did there? I crack me up. You’re lucky to have a dog like me.

Me: No! No horses. Wrong species, wrong size, wrong shape, just wrong wrong wrong!

Mr Rp: Well, if you balanced me on your shoulders, I could give it a good go I reck..

Me: No! Don’t drag me into your perverted fantasies. Besides, I thought you’d learned what it was like the other day.

Mr Rp: Oh yes. That husky. There I was, minding my own business, having a sniff of the grass, and out of no-where, I was assaulted! Assaulted I tell you!

Me: Well yes, you did get jumped by a husky, who was rather bigger than you. The look on your face was priceless.

Mr Rp: Fat lot of good you were. All you did was laugh. I thought you were going to bust a gasket or sumfing.

Me: I’ve never seen you look so surprised and puzzled. You were so shocked, you just stood there!

Mr Rp: Well, I was taken aback it’s true, but after the first few seconds, it felt oddly – enjoyable.

Me: Didn’t look like it. Specially when you got a bit, shall we say, ‘damp’ at your rear end?

Mr Rp: Pah. That comes from associating with amateurs. He was so stunned by me, he couldn’t help himself.

 

Me: Yes well, now it’s happened to you, maybe you won’t do it again yourself.

Mr Rp: Yes, you carry on thinking that, it’s what you’re good at. By the way, my paw hurts. Can you carry me back to the car and give me some treats?

In which Mr Rustypants and I play a game.

Me: Hey Mr Rustypants, let’s play a game!

Mr Rustypants: Sure dad, I’ll just get my tennis ball.

Me: No, this isn’t a game with a tennis ball, this is a game of ‘what happened this week’

Mr Rp: Well, if there’s no tennis ball involved, it’s not a proper game. However, if you insist, after a few biscuity type snacks, I’m sure I can oblige. How do we play this game?

Me: Well, I say something that might have happened, and you play ‘one up-dog-ship’ with me. Look, I’ll start.... ‘What’s more embarrassing than when you take a leak against someone else’s car?’

Mr Rp: <munches on a snack> Ummm, no wait, I can get this, I can get this... when the owner is stood there talking to you and telling you that he thinks I’m well behaved?

Me: Well done, you win a snack! Let’s try another, shall we? What’s more gross than you taking a dump in long grass, making it really hard for me to pick up?

Mr Rp: <munching on another snack> Oh, that’s easy! When I also make sure that I manage to hit some thorny prickly things and you yelp!

Me: Yes, exactly. That was very painful and also unpleasantly messy.

Mr Rp: Well, I have no shame, it hasn’t prickled my conscience. Hah! Prickled! See what I did there? I crack me up. You’re lucky to have a dog like me you know.

Me: Yes, well, that’s a matter of some debate. How about this one. ‘What’s worse than when you jump into someone else’s car boot?’

Mr Rp: <choking on a bit of biscuit> Well, you have to admit, that was very funny!

Me: No, the sight of you trying to hump some poor unsuspecting boxer in the back of her owners car was not funny – not even a little bit. And while we’re on the subject, what’s worse than you trying to shag that poor spaniel? Honestly, it was so small you had to get down on your knees and elbows, it was appalling!

Mr Rp: Well, let me guess now... what’s worse is when the spaniels owner got down to try and untangle us? It’s not MY fault I thought she was offering herself instead of her dog!

Me: It was appalling! They’ll never let us back in the dog training centre at this rate!

Mr Rp: Oh, you worry too much dad, I don’t think they noticed. They were all trying to revive that other woman who had fainted. Serves her right for watching in the first place if you ask me.

Me: Ok, last one. What’s worse than you diving into a stagnant pool of water?

Mr Rp: Where’s my biscuity treat? <snap, munch, swallow> Well.... could it be when I shook myself dry next to that other dog walker and half drowned her?

Me: Yes, that’d be the one, exactly. Oh, how about this one. What’s worse than when you thunder upstairs in the morning, jumping on the bed, paying close attention to thumping your paws down on my sensitive bits and burp your breakfast in my face?

Mr Rp: Oh, that’s a hard one. Let me think...<snap, munch swallow> Oh yes, of course – when I then turn around and fart the previous nights supper into your face?

Me: Yes, that would be the one exactly. How about this one – what’s worse than nicking another dogs ball and running off with it?

Mr Rp: Oh, that’s not fair! That was a total misunderstanding. How was I to know that plate thing was a toy? Didn’t look anything like a tennis ball.

Me: And what did you do with it? How much humiliation did you put me through with that one?

Mr Rp: Well, see, it was like this. I know you like collecting up my dumps, so I thought I’d make it easier for you. I didn’t know it was a ... what was it? Frizbee! I thought it was some new fangled dump dish, so I merely borrowed it off the other dog and did a dump on it to make life easier for you!

Me: Yes well, I had a lot of explaining to do, I can tell you. I had to give the lady owner some money to buy a new one – understandably she wasn’t too keen on throwing it for her pooch again!

Mr Rp: Well, that one mistake – just one mistake apart, I like this game, we must play it next week. I’ll see what I can rustle up. Rustling... hmm, that gives me some ideas – how do you like rabbits?

In which Mr Rustypants visited Conference

Me: Hey – where have you been all day Mr Rustypants? I’ve not seen sight nor sound of you!

Mr Rustypants: Oh hi Dad, no, I’ve been around, just chillin’, you know.

Me: You haven’t been here all day! I know because a) it’s been quiet, b) the house is still neat and c) I haven’t needed a gas mask once today.

Mr Rp: Oh, you’re a harsh man. Accurate, but harsh. Anyway, I was out. At the conference.

Me: Conference? What conference?

Mr Rp: The Dog Conference. We have one every year, like people. You have your conferences, we have ours.

Me: I think we’re entering the realms of the unwell here, but never mind, I’ll bite. What do you dogs do at your Conference?

Mr Rp: Well, same as most conferences really, a lot of hot air – which does chuck up a bit sometimes; personally I blame the canned meat, but we have speeches, networking, Master classes, that sort of thing. In fact I gave a Master class myself this year.

Me: The mind boggles. In what?

Mr Rp: Advanced Shagging, I would have thought that was obvious.

Me: Advanced.. shagging? What does that entail then?

Mr Rp: You really want to know?

Me: No, fair point well made, we’ll gloss over that. What else?

Mr Rp: Well, there was the keynote woof to start with. A Great Dane gave it this year; ‘Sofas – for human beings as well?’ which was rather controversial, but interesting. Then we had the morning break – networking and bum sniffing. As usual, we got a bit involved, but the sheep dogs soon rounded us up and herded us back into the next session. I was particularly looking forward to that; it got really heated!

Me: Do I even dare ask?

Mr Rp: It was called ‘Settling down at night – clockwise or counter clockwise turns before bed?’

Me: And that got heated?

Mr Rp: You have no idea! The bulldogs were all in favour of tradition, but the German Shepherds were all for trying a new approach. It ended up in a right old set to, and the Rottweilers had to break it up before it got nasty. It didn’t help that the Jack Russells decided to get in on the act and try and balance on the backs of the fighters – a bit like horse rodeos, you know?

Me: No, but I’m getting a good idea. I suppose that you’re going to tell me that the Red Setters then piled in?

Mr Rp: Are you kidding? Everyone knows that they’re as mad as ten and a half fleas in a crisp packet; they spent the entire fight chasing their own tails. Morons.

Me: What happened next? I’m intrigued.

Mr Rp: Well, then we had lunch. It was a really great buffet this year – raw meat, kibble, bones, anything you could want – and a special buffet for those with particular dietary needs.

Me: What – diabetics or something?

Mr Rp: No, not quite. Let’s just say that cat litter trays were involved and leave it at that, shall we?

Me: Yes, I think we should. What happened in the afternoon session?

Mr Rp: Oh, that was very enlightening – 5 steps to ridding the world of the scourge of the feline devils.

Me: Oh? And those steps were what, exactly?

Mr Rp: Step One. Eat breakfast. Step Two. Get some shagging in. Step Three. Chase some tennis balls. Step Four. Afternoon Nap. Step Five. Round up all the cats and dump them on an island in the Pacific. Preferably with a volcano on it. Preferably an active one. Job’s a good’un.

Me: So apart from your Master class, did you have any other involvement?

Mr Rp: Ah, I was hoping you wouldn’t ask me that question. I had an afternoon fringe meeting slot. Called ‘How to ensure your owner thinks they are in charge while keeping the upper hand yourself’.

Me: Charming. I’m guessing that was purely theoretical then?

Mr Rp: Oh absolutely Dad, no question about it – I have no practical knowledge in that subject area at all, obviously.

Me: Good, glad to hear it. So what about other breeds – what was their role?

Mr Rp: The poodles brought around trays of kibble for dogs that needed a quick snack between meals. The Chihuahas were busy making afternoon snacks....

Me: Which were?

Mr Rp: You really ask the wrong questions don’t you? But since you ask, poo on pigs ears. Very tasty treats I’ll have you know. Don’t look at me like that! It’s not my fault – some dogs are built that way. Not me I might add – I may say rude words now and then, but I’m not a potty mouth. Hah! Do you see what I did there? I crack me up. You’re lucky to have a dog like me.

Me: I’m completely ignoring that. Any other dogs?

Mr Rp: Well, we got a couple of Dalmatians to stand there so we could play ‘spot the difference’ with all the proceeds going to the Dogs Trust. There were a few French bulldogs and spaniels there, but no-one could make out a single work they were yapping, so we just ignored them.

Me: Really, is this nightmare never going to end?

Mr Rp: Well, we wrapped up with the last session of the Conference; “The mystical importance of the tennis ball.”  Almost brought me to tears that one did, I can tell you. Then we finished off Conference with the usual anthem and...

Me: Hang on; you have an anthem?

Mr Rp: Of course we have an anthem. We all leave conference barking ‘Who let the dogs out’ – pretty obvious really.

Me: Yes... obviously.

Mr Rp: Anyway, I’m back home now, any chance of some tea, I’m famished. Oh, and then we can take a walk up the woods afterwards, but only if you’re up to it of course.

Me: Oh, okay. We can do that. Umm, what was the title of your talk again?

Mr Rp: Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s not important......

In which Mr Rustypants shoots to magazine fame!

Me: Hey, Mr Rustypants, there's something that's come in the post, and it's addressed to you. AND it's not from Gareth the vet - what's going on?

Mr Rustypants: Ah, yes. I meant to tell you about that dad.

Me: Tell me about what?

Mr Rp: Well, a journalist saw one of your posts to your group thing, and he rang up, wanting to interview you. But you were out, so I took the call instead. And umm, supplied a picture. Or two.

Me: You spoke to a journalist?

Mr Rp: Well, if I didn't he would just have kept hounding you. Hah! See what I did there? I crack me up. You're lucky to have a dog like me.

Me: Well, I suppose I'd better take a look, see what you've managed to get me into this time...

<tears open envelope>

Me: O. M. G.