Herge Smith and his special friend have left the wilds of the Scottish Highlands and headed home to the bucolic delights of Malvern, Worcs. At this moment they are probably sipping white Russians, and reminiscing about their encounters with vicious Pine Martens and sundry hairy arsed highlanders in various states of inebriation.
Herge’s pooches, Dixon and Daisy Doo, have decided to stay with me. They are, frankly, fed up with what amounts to house arrest in an English market town. They much prefer the hills and glens of bonny Scotland, and are most enamoured with the ready availability of holes down which they can chase varmints. I can understand their reasons for staying, and being a hospitable sort have agreed to give them house room.
Dalek has also decided to stay. After an initial period of infatuation during which Herge provided ample extermination opportunities, he has recently found himself confined to a dusty cupboard beneath the stairs. Such is the fickleness of the sci-fi buff. Only a heart of stone could turn away a miniature Dalek, so I have provided him with his own bedroom.
I will receive some funny looks as I wander around with two miniature Daschunds, but I rest secure in the knowledge that should I receive any grief from an oik I can summon Dalek to deal with them.
All in all, I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.