Speaking of bollocks...

I remember at one stage when I lived in Sydney I had a dog. This day I was buying a large bag of Pal chunky bits at the local Coles supermarket and was standing in a queue at the check out. A woman standing in line behind me then asked me if I had a dog.

I told her that no, I was actually planning to try the 'Pal Diet' again. The what diet? she asks. The Pal Diet, says I, although I probably shouldn't because I'd ended up in the hospital last time. But I'd lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms.

I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and that the way that it worked was to fill up your pockets with Pal nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete and so, bugger it, I am going to try it again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in the line was by now enthralled with my story, particularly a bloke who was in line behind yer one.)

Horrified, she asked if I'd ended up in the hospital in that condition because I had been poisoned. I told her no; it was because I'd been sitting on the road licking my balls when a car hit me.

Stupid bitch, why else would I be buying dog food?