Cruising The Streets With My Emergency 5th Poo Bag.

The sun was shining as we strode out on our little 60 minute adventure last night. A spring was in Ziggy’s step as he pulled me towards his first toilet stop. The boy is like a pressurised bottle of fizz ready to explode after having baked the contents of his bowel for a good 5 hours. Lovely. My rule of thumb is always carry 5 poo bags. I have known the little machine to lay 4 turds in 1 walk. Therefore the 5th bag acts as a spare or in case I personally get caught short. Be prepared, that’s what the Cubs taught us.

We headed out to the River Mersey for some rolling in wild garlic and I took this little snap of the happy chappy shortly before he very nearly did a kamikaze roll down the river bank and into some rather rambunctious rapids.

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The Mersey banks are alive with buzzing and the whiff of the garlic is strong. Ziggy rolls in the corpse of a dead magpie, which amuses him no-end and propels me to hurtle towards him, arms flailing, head shaking violently like a mad man. It’s no good. He’s rolled in it and before I can get to him, there’s half a decomposed wing hanging out of his gob. Horrible little beast. It doesn’t take long for him to realise that the wing tastes like a zombie and it falls from his mouth. He gets a drink from the river to wash the death from his mouth and the lead goes back on the harness.

We get back onto tarmac and come across this secluded, abandoned public toilet. George Michael would regard this sort of thing as a ‘love-nest’. If this is the option, then I’d rather use the 5th ’emergency’ poo bag. No thanks George. No thanks.

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The wife and I have so far frequented only one of Northenden’s drinking taverns. We had a couple in the Crown Inn on Ford Lane. My sort of boozer. Old tele in the corner, warm Guinness and token, red-faced, old bloke talking to the wall. Fantastic. Next to the Crown Inn is Northenden police station, which looks suspiciously vacant. On the side of the outside wall is a large banner detailing the force’s latest crack down. Knife crime? Nah. Rape? Nah. Village drunks? Nah. It seems Northenden’s priority is stubbing out ‘Off-road bike nuisance’. Operation Motorcross aims to ‘crush’ this obscenity into oblivion. Brilliant, so while the bobbys are off chasing kids on mopeds and toddlers on balance bikes, I’m left to fend for myself with just the 5th ’emergency’ bag full of poo to swing at my attacker. Eat shit mate.

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