Ben Bashford

Catherine and I live in the annexe/granny flat bit of a house with a walled garden designed and built by her boss. He lives there with his wife, two kids and a wire haired fox terrier called Russell.

Anyway, Catherine and I had ordered a load of food to be delivered by Ocado at 8:00pm last night but we were out at the pub. We tried to contact Catherine’s bosses family to see if they’d be around to take it in for us but they weren’t contactable.

When the Ocado man phoned we told him to leave it outside. After all it was fucking freezing and the food was probably better out there than in the warm and not in a fridge – besides, nobody would steal it cos the house has a walled garden with a big wooden gate.

Or so we thought…

We came home last night a bit merry, picked up our groceries and stuck the bits in the fridge that needed to go in the fridge. Everything was good until Catherine sent me an email this morning…

“Julian says Russel ate your pork pie”

Bastard dog. This wasn’t just a pork pie – it was a massive one. I was realy looking forward to it n’all. Pork pie, salad, coleslaw and Branston Pickle == Nyomnyom! I can just imagine him snuffling though our shopping, finding this massive pork pie and thinking “fucking result!” before trotting off with it stuffed in his filthy thieving gob – all pleased with himself.

That dog. He just managed to reach number one in my shitlist.