As it's my one hundredth post, I thought I'd discuss something serious; something close to my heart; something like... dog crap.

So there I am on Sunday, happily plodding around the house when Nabila lets me know that Anna (our neighbour) has offered to cut our lawns for us to return a previous favour.

The problem is that the lawns are a minefield. With poop. Big dog poop.

Now normally I don't have too much of a problem with picking up after Maddy (our Old English Sheepdog). But that normally occurs on a walk, and you usually only do it once per walk. But it has been months since the grass in our gardens was cut, and Maddy drops her WMD in there every day, and not just in one spot either. So there I am (stupidly in my new Vans) brushing through the tall grass with the poop scoop tool trying to find the emissions. And they don't acquiesce to capture easily too, as, of course, it has been quite warm. Sometimes I long for a nice freeze to harden up those puppies.

Nevertheless, I finally finished the unpleasant job.

Oh, and did I mention that our wonderful dog has an love of nappies (diapers for the Americans in the audience). Full, used, dirty diapers. Some of those torpedoes in the gardens contained a lot of roughage.

My pal Andy is a clever bloke. He pays a man to come round to his place every month to do the job for him.