Thursday, February 16, 2012


My staff had a day off today. Well, sort of. They still have to tend to my needs of course, but my female staff didn't have to go and work in her health field, which is just as well because it was raining, and my male staff had little more to do than drink coffee and eat muffins. This being the case, they decided to have a sleep in, having fed Badger and I first of course, and Paolo and Biggles the budgies and half the wild birds in Australia. A couple of hours later, my female staff was in the shower and my male staff was still dozing when the phone rang.

It was the National Australia Bank's credit card fraud department and they wanted to know whether my male staff had authorised a payment of $861.28 to the Apple website from a South East Asia location. My male staff walked with the phone to the bathroom where by this time my female staff was involved in the lengthy process of applying various strange things to her face.
 "Did you go to South East Asia and buy something from the Apple website this morning?" He asked and received a glare that he interpreted as 'no".
 "Why would I go to South East Asia to buy fruit on line when there's a perfectly good fruit and veg shop in town?" She added. "Anyway I like to feel what I'm buying before I buy it." My male staff tried to think of a smart-arse answer to that but decided that it would be safer to say nothing. Instead he told the man on the phone that the transaction was nothing to do with them. The man told my male staff to cut up his credit card and another one would be sent out along with a "disputed transaction" form which he needed to complete and return.

With that little drama out of the way, my male staff plucked me from my cage and took me to the office where I balance on his shoulder and dictate my blog for him to transcribe to the laptop. He types like a dyslexic baboon but he has broad shoulders which are comfortable to sit on, which is the only reason I haven't sacked him yet. Our first job of the day is to catch up with all my overnight correspondence on Twitter. This can take half an hour or more because I have over eight hundred followers from all over the world now. Once this task is complete I allow my male staff to check his emails. Sadly this morning there was one from his mad sister saying that their mum had taken a turn for the worse. She now has no feeling at all down her left side and is having trouble swallowing. Last time my male staff was in England, his mum's doctor said that this last symptom would be a sign that she is approaching the end. My male staff sat very quietly for a while having read this news and then plopped me on his lap for a stroke and a cuddle. I though it was the least I could do to allow him that brief pleasure.

On a more cheerful note, it's time to sell your gold stocks and invest in rubber futures. Why? Because here in Australia the demand for inflatable dolls rises by two hundred and forty percent year on year. I saw this in my newspaper, the one that lines the bottom of my cage. This means that by the year 2015 there will be more inflatable sex toys than humans in this great country of  ours. The next step is to elect one of them as Prime Minister. Demand for these thing apparently peaks in the days running up to Valentines Day. This must mean that all around Australia, Crocodile Dundee types are taking their blow up partners to romantic restaurants. This poses a bit of a dilemma though. Should one inflate one's date before entering the restaurant and risk knocking another customer's soup onto their lap with an outstretched leg as one makes one's way to ones reserved table, or should one discretely blow up one's doll at the table once one is seated?

My male staff once dated one of these lovlies. He took her to a plush, expensiveInflation open air restaurant by the beach. It was a lovely, balmy evening. The stars were out, a gentle breeze stirred the palm trees and there was the gentle hissing of the small waves as they broke on the shore. My male staff and his inflatable date gazed at each other across the table and since his date's mouth was open he assumed that she was hungry, so he stopped the small-talk and ordered their meal. He had a Quarter Pounder with fries and a chocolate thickshake, while she just had a BigMac. She was watching her weight you see. Then tragedy struck as it so often does where young love is involved. My male staff leaned across the table and lovingly popped a chunk of BigMac into her realistic, inviting, vibrating, fully washable mouth. Sadly he'd forgotten to blow on it to cool it down and it melted a hole. At which point she let out a tremendous fart and flew into the ocean scaring a flock of dozing seagulls who flew raucously into the night air ensuring that everyone in the restaurant turned to see my male staff's somewaht deflated date bobbing jauntily towards Hawaii..

By the way. Badger has asked if he's mind writing a foot note at the end of my blog. I've agreed to this in return for half his daily ration of parsley.

My feet are fine thanks.
Love Badger.

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