POSH THE PIGEON

Market trading has been a little slow lately, so I have been checking up on what some of my political adversaries have been saying about me. I was therefore very, very, very, very, very, very angry to read what Pongo Khan (he makes me so angry!) had been saying about my constituents. In fact, I was so angry, I snapped my Curly Wurly in sheer temper and nearly knocked my treble gin and Vimto over!

Whilst visiting a local watering hole in the ward (that’s my job Pongo!) he referred to the punters in the pub as “mutton dressed as lamb”. What a chump he is – the phrase is “mutton dressed as kleftiko”. These heathens really do get my gander up!

Pongo (he makes me so angry!) made these comments at the back end of last year. When I say back end, I mean in November 2009. I realize that it has taken me a very long time to pick up on this, but as you well know dear gin drinkers, time stands still in drunken haze of the run up to Christmas (it clearly states in my diary entry for July 2nd “Posh, start drinking for the run up to Christmas”).

The degree of anger is not limited to my Curly Wurly. Two people in the village of Cleawood are fuming to the degree that it has taken their minds of the fact that I forgot to lay the wreath on Remembrance Sunday.

Hopefully, others will jump on the mutton bandwagon and take the pressure off me a bit. All I need is for them to behave like sheep and I’m off the hook.

I’m actually surprised Pongo (he makes me so angry!) could find Cleawood Village. I myself however, have an internal GPS which acts like a homing pigeon. The secret is I use pubs as markers. That’s how I know where Cleawood Village is; it’s next to The Cottage pub!

Must fly dear reader, I have a bird fanciers meeting at The Red Lion near…err……, now what’s that place called again?

PS – Pongo (he makes me so angry!) has pointed out to me that I should not be referring to the people of Cleawood as “constituents”. The word actually covers those who live in a parliamentary boundary area, and I accept that I should have used the term “ward members”. Sadly, due to a fall out with the entire nation of Scotland, some extremely dubious expense claims and a small matter of a missing wreath, I will never have a constituency of my own. Sob, sob, waw, waw, boo hoo!