Dear Dreary.
I have recently been diagnosed as suffering from the ''Kitty'' virus as it has become known, an attack on memory cells caused by a tiny bug that lives in cat litter. As a result, i suddenly forget random things, anything from where we keep the tomato sauce to directions home from work.
The symptoms first became apparent when i returned home from a walk one day without the dog. Then a few days later i got into a fight in The Angry Cock after drinking someone else's beer. I have now been signed off for a second month and the doc says i can only be trusted to stay in bed.
I do forget this from time to time of course, and can end up anywhere. It's brilliant!! I spend days aimlessly wondering from pub to pub, i went joy-riding in an Aston Martin, i've streaked through Marks and Spencers lingerie department, and yesterday i spent the afternoon playing twister with the rather buxom young lady next door.
It's like my birthday everyday, I get away with everything!
Do you have any suggestions for further jolly japes and antics i could get up to? I've still got three weeks left on my sicknote.
Roger the Dodger, Dodge City.


It's a long time since I've been called buxom, eh Roger? That was an original, first edition Twister too.
Good job it's wipe clean eh Roger?
Sorry about your broken nose.I always see red when someone touches my pint.
Your granddaughters first day working at M & S was eventful to say the least especially after denying any knowledge as to who the naked fat bastard was racing away in the MDs astin martin.
Kindly stop referring to mummy as a dog. She came to mine in floods of tears after your walk saying something about being tied up outside the pub whilst you popped in for a swifty. Being forced to pee up a lamppost, especially when you are the mayoress was too much to bear.
If you carry on like this I won't get you a card on fathers day and you'll have to go and live with our Dave.
Stop being a dick dad.
Dreary. x