Posts Tagged With: Race track

200. Sad Monty – by Chicken

My poor bum bum Monty is all not happy because he is sad. He did find out that we is all not the Prime Ministers and I did say he did need to find out which Minister didn’t put the Greyhounds Is In Charge Party on the bit of paper which people got to tick, and then he should chase him around the field.

Monty did say he would look into it but he did say it in a sad voice. I did make him feel better yesterday by running fasterer than him around my racey track but today we has to stay in again for the rest of the day today because the hotty hot sun is back.

I is all going to do shouting at him later to see if that does cheer him up. Sad Monty bum bum.


My sad Monty 

Chicken xxx

Categories: Chicken, Greyhounds | Tags: ,

182. The Grand Re-opening – by Monty

Winter has been a disappointment with regards to snow, but I am very pleased to see temperatures rising now as we head towards Spring. Today was warm enough for us to begin work on my garden. I was able to inspect my race track in detail, and found it to be in excellent condition. There was some talk of planting flowers around it, but I have not yet agreed to this plan.

Having tested the outside temperature, wind speed and direction, cloud cover and the firmness of the ground, I determined that the going was good, so I gave permission for my digging pit to be re-opened.

Both Chicken and I thoroughly enjoyed our first foray of the year into my pit. I had quite forgotten how much fun it is. The Fairy made a video which clearly shows my superior digging skills compared to Chicken’s.  Chicken says the parts of the video which show me digging are boring and go on too long, and has suggested that you only watch the parts that she is in.

I disagree.

Monty The Great


Categories: Greyhounds, Monty | Tags: , , ,

179. A Week Is A Long Time In Politics – by Monty


Forest Gump could not have caught me.

A week, as they say, is a long time in politics. A fortnight is even longer, and three weeks is tantamount to a lifetime. Britain is about to leave Your Rope; Mr Farage has just left Britain; Mr Trump has just become President Trump, and Mrs May has just bought a new dress.

But three weeks in politics is but a snippet compared to three weeks in the same dwelling unit as an angry Chicken.

I am already sick of 2017. Sick as a parrot.

For the first few days she refused to speak to me on the grounds that it would be inappropriate to fratenise with single men now that she was married to Mr Gingerbread-Snowman. Within ten days she had divorced him on the grounds of boredom, and begun a new relationship with a stuffed raccoon. Mr Gingerbread-Snowman and I were then able to become acquainted as Chicken wasn’t interested in either of us.

It was at this point that she re-established the lines of communication with yours truly, in order to tell me that she was sending me to Coventry on the grounds of unreasonable behaviour based on the fact that I had forgotten that all toys are hers.

I told The Fairy to tell Chicken that I was unable to travel to Coventry as my calendar was too full. Chicken told The Fairy to tell me to get lost, but The Fairy was too polite to pass the message on.

All my efforts at friendship were met with cold shoulders and rather unnecessary bad language, so I decided to concentrate on carrying out some maintenance work on my race track. Although there were some minor incidences of interference, for the most part she ignored me in favour of her new beau. Ridiculous!

I decided to remind her how fast I am because I know she finds this particular attribute irresistible. Casting caution to the wind, I repeatedly sprinted at full speed around my track, thereby rendering myself far more attractive than Raccoon.

She didn’t say it out loud, but I think she was secretly impressed.


Categories: Greyhounds, Monty | Tags: ,

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