Vets – they’re all at it

Just thought I’d slip a quick one in while my wife is watching some god-awful British drama about an incestuous veterinary practice in North Yorkshire. I’ve only watched it for about 5 minutes (I really couldn’t take any more), but even I’ve worked out that the receptionist’s hubby (a vet) is bonking his assistant, the practice manager’s husband (who is also a vet) has bonked his wife’s best mate and his sister-in-law is having it away with her ex-boyfriend (not a vet).
In fact, the only one not getting any seems to be the gay bloke that cleans out the kennels.
It’s all tremendously complicated. And poorly acted.

I suppose that if there is a lesson one can learn from this though it’s “don’t marry a vet”. They obviously struggle to keep Simon Sausage in Terry Trousers.
To be honest I’d be sorely tempted to stray if I were married to that lass that used to be in Coronation Street though. (Apparently, her name is Gaynor Faye). Maybe it was those horsey teeth that attracted the vet in the first place.
You can just see him trying to impress her in the pub: “Open up wide, love – and I’ll tell you ‘ow old you are!”

It was a surprisingly bright weekend in Cape Town. Sunday was even warm too. An opportunity to take stock of the damage caused by the recent heavy rain, thoroughly dry one’s goats out and allow one’s son to get absolutely filthy in the garden. However, any thoughts that we may have seen the last of the winter were firmly dashed by the lashings of rain and filthy weather we endured today. And don’t get me started on Cape Town drivers when it rains. Grrrrr.

OK – I said that this would be quick one. I wouldn’t lie to you, dear reader.
More soon. Possibly.

Update: OK, it seems that the bloke that cleans out the kennels ISN’T gay!
That dachshund was definitely female…

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