Mit Dem Schwanz Wedeln - To Wag Its Tail

It doesn’t take much for a dog to wag its tail. Give it a disgustingly low quality snack with less meat content than the average Chinese man’s undergarments and it’ll get almost as, if not tons more, excited than the racists among you did at that hee-larious joke. Which is ‘very‘ at the least. Stroke a dog’s head and it’ll lick your face, provided it isn’t a pit-bull and you’re a toddler. Chances are though, while administering a bloody mauling, it’ll be wagging its tail like mad, enjoying proceedings right up until the police shoot it’s head off. Working in a cinema, I’ve seen the ending of Marley and Me several times, and it did make me shed a tear. If you’re unfamiliar with the film or preceding book, it’s about a guy, his dog and his worthless-by-comparison wife and kids. The most tragic thing for me was not Marley (the Labrador) dying at the end, but having to look at Owen Wilson’s head in extreme close-up, his nauseating 5ft smashed-to-shit nose in my face as he rattled off some wanky crap about how dogs don’t care if you’re rich or poor, thick or clever, Owen Wilson or not a prick, and so on. How many people do you know like that? While such a cynical view would be in keeping with my general outlook on life, the fact the words are coming out of that face makes me want to instantly disagree. He could be speaking out against child-molesting Nazis, but again I’d still struggle to openly be on his side. It’s like how Bono has turned me off giving anything to charity just because he’s such a massive tit. I’m quite aware of how utterly immature that is, but then I am only 26, and this piece, struggling to go anywhere, needs a new stream of mind-turd to dump and run with. So there. I’d say of all the adverts on TV begging for money, the Dog’s Trust tugs at my unusually tort heart strings the most. They give the narrator mutt a cheeky-and-slightly-scally northern accent as he talks about his dear friend Patches, who was kicked, beaten and abandoned in a gold mine. Roger was also abused - sexually. And poor Spot! He got his legs smashed off by a plastic surgeon. Awful stuff you can’t help but almost donate money toward preventing. But you don’t. Because you’re - sorry, I’m - a bastard. Don’t let that stop you though. In fact, give to charity just to rub it in my selfish, but at least nasally-sound, little face. Take that, Wilson!