by Rachel Ragg
It’s Monday morning – so it’s time to read last week’s newspapers.
Well, that’s not strictly true. It’s actually time to clean out the guinea pigs. But as lining their cage with old newspaper is my sole opportunity to catch up on all the news I’ve missed for the past week, cleaning them out takes a while.
While it’s quite good fun finding out what happened a week ago, it’s even more fun deciding who the guinea pigs get to wee on. When Gordon Brown was still PM, there was no competition. However, that was just a teeny bit dull. Now I get to choose. Is it going to be Wayne Rooney or Anne Robinson? A foreign dictator is always a good poo-receptacle. So is a Miliband (any one will do).
Sometimes I get a nice surprise, and some forgotten object of irritation presents himself to me. Today’s was Paul Daniels. There is no satisfaction quite like it.
Tee hee, I think to myself as I launch the piggies back into their nice clean cage.
Then my mother calls.
“I’ve just seen your last Daily Mail article,” she says.
“Oh goody,” I reply. “How nice it must be to sit and have coffee and read the Mail.”
“Yes. I just retrieved it from the chicken coop. I’m afraid you’re covered in chicken droppings.”
I think I have got my come-uppance.