When in town gentlemen, wear brown

by Ken Newton

Anyone who's danced the 'Dog Jobby Rhumba', (a slower, foot-dragging version of the 'Twist' usually done on grass or kerbstones), will know how difficult it can be to entirely remove the offending article. During a personal performance on the North Inch yesterday, I realised that since doggie waste bins appeared, together with fines for non-compliance, you need to be very unlucky now, to mess up one shoe, never mind both.

There are rumours too, that a new 'Range Rover' dog tax, is to be introduced throughout the EEC to deter owners from running dobermans, alsations etc., which harm the environment more than smaller more economical dogs like Jack Russells and Yorkshire Terriers. The Brussells beaurocrats maintain that bigger the dog, the bigger the poo and because the now obligatory 'green' polythene poop scoop bags take five thousand years to break down, new storage facilities are required and must be paid for.

From June next year, all Perthshire dogs must be electronically 'tagged' and have their waste weighed and measured at a central holding point near Friarton, before onward transmission to a new landfill site on the outskirts of Dundee. Apparently, locals residents are a bit sniffy about the proximity of the dump and are seeking a reduction in their council tax.

Turning to cats, my friend ran one over driving through Letham during the summer. He knew he'd hit something but didn't realise what, until, using his rear view mirror, he saw the beast lying at the side of the road. On checking the cat up close, he found it to be twitching slightly and not quite dead. A humane sort of chap, he unearthed from the boot of his car, a shovel normally used for dealing with snowdrifts in winter. He used this to batter the animal about the head until he was sure it was dead. When the police arrived at his door the following morning asking about the incident, he was appalled to learn that the cat's owner has witnessed the entire affair from the lounge window of her third floor flat. To make matters even worse, the police pointed out that the cat he'd whacked with the spade had been the long time friend and companion of the third floor spectator. The one he'd struck with the car, remained plastered, like in a Tom and Jerry cartoon, to his front bumper.

To finish off this weeks corner, I found the undernoted text on the internet recently and thought some readers might find it interesting.

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulacity uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid aoccdrnig to a rscheearch taem at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteers be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as wlohe. Scuh a cdonition is arppoiately cllaed Typoglycemia.

And yuo awlyas thoguht slpeling was ipmorant?

A full definition of Typoglycemia can be found here.