My brother has just had a staring contest with his pup.
The dog had upset him. He’d been ‘affectionate with the cushion again’.
He then yelled “You’re an utter Bastard and I shall flick you with my handkerchief”, which he then proceeded to do.
With this the dog first tried ripping said handkerchief, then bounced round the furniture growling with his plastic bone.
He’s now complaining about an odour coming from his pups furry butt.
He’s taking turns holding said dog like a baby alternating between sniffing his mouth and sniffing his arse. If I’m honest its a little nauseating.
Whilst all this goes on my brother is catching up on Corrie giving me constant running commentary on who is who and what they’re doing including why they’ve panned out on a lingering look, who is a gangster and why the ex-boyfriend keeps rocking up and why there’ll be tears before bedtime.
We’ve covered the ‘they them’ conversation, discussed the only time he’s ever allowed someone to put their finger up his bottom, called me fat and said I’m a miser like my father once was, and then told me I have to accept him as he is, blunt and truthful.
No bru, you’re just plain bonkers.
Is it too early for bedtime?
PS. This was repeated a second night, except this time it was Eurovision and I swear I nearly bludgeoned him with a pillow, but then felt bad for the dog.