The Election

Why can’t dogs vote? After all, I have had to suffer all this election stuff whilst my master shouts at the tv, in reality the mildest of his reactions that I can report. There have been a couple of occasions when that ancient hippie was on the screen I had to move pretty quickly to avoid a trainer coming towards me.

He didn’t seem too pleased when the woman in the smart suit with her wooden face was on either. Apparently she is incapable of giving us any hope or any positive ideas about the future.

His real venom seems reserved for the height restricted child leading the LibDems. Apparently he is the sole reason the master has nobody for whom to vote.

He gets particularly vocal when the woman who wants to be Home Secretary appears, although it does seem the hippie’s big mate Seaumas keeps her off the screen as much as possible. The master was laughing very loudly this morning when he heard “she was ill”. He screamed ‘Seaumas has silenced her’, ‘Seaumas has silenced’ her several times.

His other favourite is when Mr McDonnell comes on talking finance. He reminds him loudly that he had been sacked by his mate Livingstone for being financially incompetent when on the GLC.

So you see, I know as much as the master does about all this so I fail to understand why I can’t have a vote. I reckon I’m more than intelligent to put a cross in a box.

I did enjoy the Champions League final last Saturday. I have to claim to support Manchester United simply because him indoors does. But I do have a sneaky dog admiration for Real Madrid, especially that Ronaldo fellow who does wondrous things with the ball when he sees the goal.

The master has received some moaning from friends about United’s “boring” performance in Europa League final. Deep inside I reckon he knows they’ve been boring for four years but he comforts himself by accepting that winning trophies is an acceptable compromise.

He has been cooking again, fortunately didn’t break anything during his time in the kitchen. His clumsiness can be quite dangerous when I’m laying on the kitchen floor. He gave me some rather nice chicken, plus he had the cheese board out again – Cheddar rules ok for me. Apparently I’m not allowed any of his soft French cheese because of the after effects on me!

Woof! Woof! Woof!