Highlighting both sides of the "Britain is a nutty nation of dog-lovers" cliché here: the overindulging of spoiled pets and the great interest in and outcry about whack-job owners.

Poor Rusty. Labs are unfortunately prone to weight gain and bad hips, and he's suffered unnecessarily from both. There are things that I can tolerate people doing to themselves but that should never be inflicted on a dog. I mean, spoiling them occasionally is one thing. Diets of truffles and other rubbish is cruel.

The brothers' lawyer Ann-Marie Gregory said she wondered "where this case will stop" and questioned whether the parents of fat children would also find themselves in court. Heh. Thing is, a dog is even more defenceless than a child. At least the kid will grow up, become independent and be exposed to plenty of media messages about healthy eating. In the very weird pack context that is the human home, dogs can't be expected to understand or have any control over their diet.

Rusty's going back to his dads. Hope the authorities check up on them carefully.

Back at work today in some Dragonlordy finery. No, not my new expensive shirt; just a plain black one and silver tie (eBay January sales yay) with my new, really nice, really cheap suit trousers. No suit jacket - that would be way overboard in a casual workplace. I'm not sure I'm a 'ties' person really, but it's fun for today.

Considering my former accustomed attire was jeans and a scruffy shirt under a fleece jacket, let's just say I look significantly different.

The effect of all of this swish is somewhat weakened by the grey trainers peeking out from under my trouser legs, but that can't be helped. Experience has shown that my walk into work wrecks normal shoes. Actually, my feet have been known to wreck trainers fairly quickly too. Wear them out from the inside. I've no idea. Maybe I walk really strangely.

There's a bit of Lycraesque support happening (actually, no idea what this compression vest's made of; some polymer, anyway), because, like the old jeans I've had to discard, my skin's getting a little loose on me around the middle. To be honest: looking pret-ty fine... though I still hate my huge rear. I've never minded the tum as much as the arse. Oh, and my hair's still split-endy, but that's entirely my own fault for being a long-haired hippy metalhead girly-neuter who refuses to get it all hacked off.

That's quite enough clothing talk.

Exciting!

Sorta wish I'd had something like that. As a young child I liked trains, but Thomas the Tank Engine has a very very limited range of facial expressions. And Ringo Starr.

I'll watch it online over lunch and get back to you. All hail Jekub, that laughs at barriers and goes brrm-brrm.

OMG bloody migrants!!1! (Jolly good, I say.)

When will we get over this Have Your Say idiocy, viewing the general public as a wonderful reservoir of accurate scientific knowledge and sound judgment? Giving the public a choice is basically giving the gutter press permission to dictate.

In the future, there will be robots!

("Asimo has been in development for 20 years and its skills include walking forwards, backwards, up and down stairs, as well as running.") (Which is cooler and more sophisticated than that wry sentence makes it sound, but I love the deadpan humour there.)

WHY is this in the NEWS? @#£&% retarded.

edit: Hahahaha, Transporters was awesome! (Also, Stephen >> Ringo.)