Baggsy not me

I don't want to talk about this week too much. After my upbeat postings of recent weeks, particularly with the good wishes of Phil and Ms D, I was feeling upbeat. Then I heard the word that every dog dreads:

BAGS

Standing for Bookmaker's Afternoon Greyhound Service, these are the races that are shown in betting shops in the afternoon. Away from the glamour of a night at The Stow, this is the greyhound graveyard, where the duds and degenerates go to race. I don't want to dwell on it, I really don't, but I had a BAGS race this Wednesday and came in third. For reasons only he knows, Jono put me in it.

Rather than being watched by my adoring faithful, in good spirits at my rightful home, I was being watched by a bunch of old men, lubricated by good spirits from the retirement home.

No further comment, but we have a bit of an Sir Alex Ferguson-Roy Keane situation going on here. EXCEPT DO YOU THINK ALEX FERGUSON WOULD PUT KEANE IN THE YOUTH TEAM, DO YOU? DO YOU????Ahem...It's a real bone of contention between us and I don't want to talk anymore.

I am terrier-fied about the future.

Sorry people, no more from me today. Be back soon.

P.S. - A massive, 'Sorry, I wish my heart was in it' big-up for Agent in the Field (AIF) Bloch. Happy 36th, pal.

P.P.S - A big, 'I've had better weeks than this' booyakasha to AIF Lynch. Sayonara sweetheart.

P.P.P.S - A big 'If you were a tree, I wouldn't even cock my leg' small-up to non-AIF Spriggsy.

Peace. Love. Woof.

Flying Frank