Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!
I drove down my road a few weeks back and noticed that a giant 5G tower had been erected on the opposite side of the street. No notice was given to anyone about this happening because obviously, the council can do whatever they want. Fortunately for me, it is a way down the road and does not obstruct my outlook but I felt very sorry for the big house opposite who now had their view of the rolling greenbelt obstructed by a giant phallic object.
A few days later I noticed some graffiti sprayed all over it:
“Who Gave Permission For This?”
“This Thing Is An Eyesore”
This made me laugh as the culprit had to be one of the people living opposite. The folk in those big houses are probably fairly affluent: they have nice cars, keep their front gardens tastefully in order, have elegant Christmas lights, and are the sort that would likely be very pleasant on the whole and not break the law. That’s what I would think if I was to pigeonhole those that lived there. However, it seems I am completely wrong and that anarchy lives in us all. I was very proud of whoever did this and wanted to knock on their door and invite them over for a drink.
I could imagine them driving off to B&Q to find spray paint
“We’ll have to practise on some MDF boards outside before we do it, Elizabeth. I’ve never defaced anything before.”
“Of course, Roger. I mean, bloody hell, it has to be legible or what will people think?”
“We will sneak out after midnight and do the deed. If anyone stops to ask what we are doing we will have to say we are wildlife conservationists. Start hugging a tree if anyone slows down.”
“Right. I’ll bring my clipboard and opera binoculars so we look authentic.”
I pictured them sneaking out in the dead of night in their plaid Marks and Spencer pyjamas, woolly hats, and wellies. The euphoria of getting away with the vandalisation probably left them breathless and they might have even got to it in the drench shower when they got home to wash off the evidence. Power to the people! However, a week later someone from the council painted over it in battleship grey. I’m hoping too much Christmas spirit might see their rebellious nature rise again.
Talking Of Anarchy In The Greenbelt…
You can’t help love your dogs to bits. There is no loyalty like that of a hound. Even if you are cross with them they still love you. No matter what, you are their favourite thing.
They are protective
A bit mental
And ferociously attractive
And you have to remember all of those things when they put you in a difficult situation.
Across the fields we walked, as usual, enjoying the fresh air and apricity of the day when all of a sudden a great big hare decided to have a bit of a skip around in the long grass. Oh, silly hare…
Tex immediately set off after the hopper because there was a tasty snack daring to taunt him. Halo intercepted from the right and they began to hunt down the hare at full pelt in pack mode clearing two fields in seconds. It was like watching a David Attenborough show. My dogs are very fast but the hare had a metre advantage and I prayed it would get to ground. I didn’t want to jog that day but there I was trying to run in hiking boots to catch up with them because all of a sudden they had completely forgotten their names when I called them. I had my 13-year-old Jack Russell with me who hadn’t joined the pack, thank God, but instead ran in circles around my feet which did not help me get a sprint on.
“Get out the bloody way, you daft dog!”
I looked up and watched in the distance as the other two came up to a hawthorn hedgerow. Halo stopped. Tex went straight through it. Brilliant.
A few minutes later three animals came running out diagonally in the other direction at full speed.
Hold on, I only have two big dogs, what the hell is that?
Oh look, it’s a bloody great deer.
How in hell has that happened? Tex must have thought all his Christmases had come at once. Through the hedge he goes after a hare and comes face to face with a deer. Look what I found, mummy!
Why is this happening to me? I just want to go for a nice walk and now I’m hyper-ventilating, barn dancing around a terrier, and wondering if I’ve lost my wolfits. Am I going to find them feasting on a deer? How am I going to talk my way out of this if the farmer sees it? Will he be pleased that my nut-job mutts have cleared hares and deer from his crops or is he going to shoot them and me?
I started praying out loud. Please God, let the deer get away. I have been traumatised from a young age by Disney and watching Bambi’s mother die. I don’t want to be party to this kind of ordeal in real life. I’ll do anything.
Eventually, they came back. Unbloodied and absolutely knackered. Bambi had made it. Phew.
I don’t know who was panting the hardest out of me and the dogs and who might die first but we made it back to the truck intact sans rabbit or venison stew.
Next time, I’m getting a cat.