Bag of Shit.

Fucking hell. How depressing is a trip to HMV these days? A new HMV has just opened in Lewisham (it will close soon) and not only does it refuse to stock the 2-disc version of Star Trek, just like every other shop, but it lines up people that I vaguely know to point and laugh at me. There are thousands of stand-up comedian's DVDs on display this year and with each one I am reminded of the direction of my career. Rhod Gilbert, Jason Manford, Stephen K. Amos, Ed Byrne, Russell Howard, Jimmy Carr, Michael McIntyre, Jimbo....and LOADS more all have DVDs on the shelves each one with their faces laughing at me and a sticker on the cover saying "Fuck You, Legge. Talentless Cunt!" or "Everyone Loves DVDs" or something. To be honest, I was too upset to read the sticker. Obviously, it's great to think that these very funny people have their hard work available for punters to buy. They deserve it and they've earned every penny. But did they even think once about me when they wrote their jokes, honed them, grafted away at their careers and made it big? Yes. I am a warning to all. Take heed.

What have I really done that can compete with professional success? Well, what about emotional, real, HUMAN success? Yesterday I made two new friends.

Twenty minutes later, our friendship was over. Normal service resumed.

When you walk a dog there are several things that you need to take with you. First, a dog. A dog walk without a dog is just a walk. That's all it is. Second, dog treats. This will help your dog not just fuck off and never come back when you let it off the lead. Thirdly, poo bags. Your dog will want to excrete faeces when it goes out. It doesn't even begin to fathom how that is frowned upon when a human does it and it cares not how or even if the poo is disposed of properly. That is totally up to you.

Now, some dog owners will let their dog poo and then not pick it up with a poo bag and put it in the bin. These dog owners are fucking wankers. They also own Staffordshire Bull Terriers. The fucking wanker of the dog world. I don't own a Staffordshire Bull Terrier and I dispose of my dog's poo properly. That's why I ALWAYS bring poo bags with me.

Well, nearly always.

In my house, I have a bag bag. It's a bag that I put bags in. I know what a bag looks like and when I have a bag that I don't really need it ends up in the bag bag. "Hello", I often say to myself. "That looks exactly like a bag. Yes. Yes, it is a bag. Well, now that I've identified it I can happily put it in the bag bag. That's where I keep bags".

Some people don't actually know what a bag looks like and I am married to one of those people.

Muki thinks that anything that once contained something but no longer does is an empty bag. That's really not always the case. Sometimes, it's a sandwich box, cling film or a net that once held onions. All of which I have found in the bag bag.

Don't get me wrong. There are grey areas (Christ, are you STILL reading this?) to this rule. A bag that once had a loaf of bread in it is still a plastic bag. I can accept that. You can put your hand in a bread bag and lift up poo with it so that is totally accepted into the bag bag. As are the plastic bags that dog treats come in. Finished the dog treats? Fine, we can use the packaging for when the dog treats come out again. That's in the dog bag. Pretty much anything that is a bag is allowed in. Although I will be stricter with this from now on.

I walked into the park yesterday and was immediately greeted by a woman who thought Jerk was lovely. She was right. I liked her. She had good taste in dogs. She was even walking one. It was a Labradoodle and Jerk didn't seem to hate it. This was all going lovely. I was having a nice chat with a very friendly lady and our dogs were playing together. Isn't that nice? We started walking round the park smiling at the fun our dogs were having.

Jerk celebrated with a poo.

It was then I realised that I had come out without poo bags. This is very embarrassing in the dog community. If you don't pick up your dogs poo then you are scum or a Staffordshire Bull Terrier owner (in which case, you're scum no matter what you do). Luckily, my new friend had a poo bag with her. "Don't worry", she said. "You can have my last poo bag". How lovely. Take that, Rolo!

I walked over to the poo and picked it up. It was then that I remembered I did have a poo bag in my pocket. I had taken three from the bag bag the day before and only used two. There was still one left. I told my new best friend in the whole world that I just remembered about my poo bag. "Yeah", she said. "I thought you had one. I could see it sticking out your back pocket".

She just smiled about it because giving a poo bag over to another dog owner isn't a big deal. It's a pleasure. That's just how we are. We're fucking lovely.

Then a man approached. He had a yappy terrier. He was my new friend's boyfriend.

Jerk hated his dog (so did I) but I liked him. He seemed overly cheery and they seemed a nice couple. After two minutes, his annoying dog had a poo. He hadn't brought a poo bag with him either and asked his girlfriend if she had a spare one.

"No. But he has".

She had gallantly gave me a poo bag when I desperately needed it. The least I could do was offer mine to him.

Except, I didn't want to.

He stood there smiling and waiting for me to offer my bag. It was only a few seconds but enough to make it uncomfortable. "I don't have a bag", I said. "I had to ask you for one. Remember?"

"Yes", she said. "But then you remembered you had one in your pocket."

"Yeah. But it's not really a bag. Just a bit of plastic, really".

"That's ok", he said. "I'll take it".

He held his smile and his hand out. I was still not offering the bag. This was now just awkward.

"It's very small", I said.

"That's OK. My dog's only small. I can't just leave it's shit here".

Even though I disapproved of his vulgar language, he was totally right. It's against the dog walkers code. Poo MUST be picked up and therefore I MUST give him my "poo bag". I passed him the small blue bag and prepared myself for ridicule.

It was one of Muki's offerings from the bag bag. It wasn't a bread bag, it wasn't a sandwich box or an onion net. Those I could have handled. This was a bag that once contained 10 sanitary towels.

The man laughed a lot while trying to get his big, fat hand into the tiny bag to lift up poo. He laughed a lot. This made me laugh. I mean, what's so embarrassing about that anyway? NOTHING. That doesn't stop me, at 41 years of age, to be confused, embarrassed and giggly about periods. I'm actually pointing and laughing at the last word I wrote right now. I should be ashamed of myself for not being more mature and I was. Luckily, these two folks saw the funny side and were mature enough for all three of us. That was until the man did the "Ducky" limp-wristed hand gesture and said in a very camp voice "Is that what you and your boyfriend always use?"

WHAT?

"Just because I have sanitary towels doesn't mean I'm a gay man", I said while looking at him in a I-wish-you-would-fuck-off way.

"No", he retorted. "It doesn't mean you're a straight man either".

Him and his girlfriend laughed really loudly.

"You're right", I argued (slightly angrily, if truth be told). "It means, I'm a woman. I'm a woman".

There was a very slight silence (only an hour or so) when my new best friend said to her boyfriend "We should probably get straight back, then, yeah?". He agreed. They said their goodbyes and left quite briskly.

Don't know If I'll see them again. I doubt it. Just wish that the last thing I said to them hadn't been "I'm a woman. I'm a woman".

Don't have time for the awful woman with nail polish on the tube story. That's tomorrow sorted. Bye bye!

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