I have had a very stressful evening last night. I was perfectly happy when I heard bells and banging so I looked out the window and there were some absolute loons out there dancing. They were loons for several reasons. For starters, they were all wearing matching clothes and even though I'm colour blind I could tell they were not nice colours. They all had bits of bird stuck in their hats and their faces were all painted black. They must have birds as friends instead of dogs, but you'd never see Dave with my dog hair in a hat, even if it is lovely soft ginger coloured hair. They had sticks that they weren't even throwing to be fetched and they were loud. I asked Louise what was going on and she said they all danced because they were called Morris. Not liking your name is no excuse for making such a racket.
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| Loons called Morris |
I stood and watched them for a bit, hoping my steely glare would stop them in their madness or at least get them to throw one of their sticks for me to fetch but it was no good. I tried my really grumpy glare, the one that makes Louise walk me when she has a bad head on Sundays but no.
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| Steely glare turning to grumpy glare |
I began to get quite upset in the end and stood on the arm of the sofa, which I am absolutely not allowed to do, to get a better view of the crazy people. I can understand why they were in the White Lion car park, if I ran a pub I wouldn't let that go on I'd kick them out too. In the end they stopped and I tried to settle down a bit but all night I kept getting up to check they were definitely gone. I no longer like anyone called Morris.
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| So upset that my eyes glazed over. Bad boy, off the sofa. |
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