Sh1t Bag Fairy

I love where I live. For the most part I like the people in the village. I'm lucky to have some fantastic neighbours and met some decent friends in this little piece of Yorkshire.

Butt, (spelled on purpose like that), some people are real arsches (spelled deliberately like that). Why, for the love of everything that is holy, would you choose, to stick your hand in a plastic bag, pick up a ploppet or two of steaming dog dung, tie the bag and then, well then, just drop it wherever you fancied? What is wrong with you? Surely, please, dear Lord, surely, after going to all that trouble you would then go that extra 100 yards (that you are probably walking past) and dangle your deposit of doggy doo, doo in a bin clearly marked for the purpose, or are you as thick as d.s?

There's no bloody bin at the area nearest to the allotments, but surprisingly there is at the other end and even more amazingly if you can be arsed to walk back towards the green, there are two, possibly three (if you include the waste bin) other areas you can discard your pooch's plastic pocket of poo.

Some idiot, seems to have taken it upon themselves to pick up all of the excess porta-pooch-potties and removed the offending items from several areas of the village. He's a moron, surely? I know he is, because as sure as a daily constitutional follows the consumption of Bran Flakes and prunes, some cretin will think it's okay to start the canine-crap-container-cycle again.

Especially thoughtful, someone has even reserved their doggy poo bag a seat. Altogether now, ahh

Dear residents of Barton, especially the dog owners among you, do better. Please!

Now That's a Bag of Sh...