Bastards of the human and feathered variety

Had an upsetting phone call on Saturday morning when my brother called to say that my car had been broken into Thursday night. Richard drives my car which is why it was parked at his house but unfortunately that particular evening he didn't hear the thieves smash the window to get in. They demolished the ignition barrel, switch and turning lock so the car now can't be driven at all and as a parting gesture emptied the ashtray over all the car seats!

The police didn't bother to come until Saturday morning by which time Rich and his friend had had to push the car round to the back of the house for protection. This meant that there were no fingerprints that could be taken so no one will be punished. I've spent time on the phone trying to organize insurance and the company arranged for the car to be towed to a panelbeaters yesterday and have said they'll try to get it back on the road as soon as possible.

The weird thing is nothing was stolen out of the car at all which I guess means I have really have nothing worth stealing! I guess I'm lucky that the morons didn't manage to steal the car and go joyriding as it would have ended up as a burnt out shell on the river bank. It just infuriates me that they trashed the scruffiest car on the street- could they not tell it belonged to someone permanently broke? I just hope my belief in Karma holds true........

Onto more pleasant topics once upon a time there were three little boys. Well three little white roosters. One was unnamed as he would be going to live near the beach at Waimarama, one was called Spiderman but he unfortunately was killed by my landlords dogs and the third was known as Bloody White Bastard. Now BWB didn't start off with that nickname but he was such a pig to the hens (hiding behind bushes to ambush any unsuspecting pullet minding her own business) that I found myself constantly yelling out "Leave her alone you b****y white b*****d!" so it stuck.

His halcyon days have passed however as BWB is now ten years old and apparently can't cut the mustard anymore. Yes the hens actually threw him out of the hen run. He now spends his time sunning himself in the garden or else hanging around waiting for me feed him. I have become fond of him as he has turned into a pleasant bantam rooster who minds his own business. No more lust in the dust for him- now he only has me his "bud in the mud".