Well, the first week of my diary has rolled forward and, as you’ve probably deduced, it’s been fairly representative of my life in general.

    My ever suffering wife has managed to complete another seven days without killing me or seeking sanctuary in the divorce courts, my mother-in-law hasn’t made any trips abroad to replenish the soil for her coffin from her native land, I’ve played some breathtakingly awful poker and the cat continues to torment me at every turn. Indeed it’s the feline that opens today’s proceedings.

    Before I go on, I should point out that I’m partially responsible for the event as I forgot to let the damn thing out last night.

    You can see where this is heading…

    I awoke refreshed and happy, daydreaming of WSOP victory after yesterdays $0.90 win and even warbled a song or two in the shower. I kissed my beloved lightly on the cheek as she departed for work and skipped my way to the living room in order to catch the early morning news.

    And there it was.

    Sat glistening in the middle of the carpet…a turd.

    A very large, fresh one.

    It’s creator sat beside it with a smug look on its face. This put me in a dilemma, should I dive across the room to throttle the fucking animal or remove the offending pile of poo as quickly as possible before it starts to ferment? I opt for the latter and scurry off to the toilet before returning with an entire roll of toilet paper, a bottle of disinfectant and some aftershave to mask the smell.

    I gingerly approached it like a bomb disposal expert inching towards a landmine and tried to figure out the best way to get rid of the thing. I was half expecting the ‘Jaws’ theme to start playing. Dog shit is easy as it tends to be solid and cigar shaped rather than the splat produced by small children. This one looked like the Matterhorn without the snow capped peak and had a consistency somewhere in-between the two. I eventually picked it up in a pincer movement with both hands mummified in toilet paper and after a couple of flushes it was gone from my life forever.

    From now on I’m putting a bonding agent in the cat food.

    And so to poker…or not

    There were three freerolls today that had the potential to add to my bankroll. I missed the first one because I fell asleep (shamefully at lunchtime) and missed the other two as I was in the pub.

    This isn’t as bad as it sounds. A friend of mine (Dan) owns the establishment and has asked me to run his Monday night poker game, so armed only with a case of chips and laptop computer I head into the evening mist. After making a mess of the programming on the blind clock and distributing the incorrect amount of chips to three of the players we eventually get underway.

    Dan decides in his infinite wisdom that only the top two get paid in each of the two games and you’ve guessed it, I came third in both. More worryingly it was Dan the Man who knocked me out in both instances, both times on the river and both times with such delight you’d have thought his dick had just trebled in length. Next week I shall kidnap his personal porn collection and hold it to ransom unless he folds on my re-raises. That should ensure victory.