Bastards, all of them.
Let the fuckwit spaniel out this morning and recoiled in horror. She appeared to have shat her own body weight. Nice.
Unsurprisingly, given the choice of cleaning up dog shit or doing the hooligans' packed lunches, Amanda chose the latter. I'd just finished bagging and shampooing when a vile retching noise came from the kitchen. The fucking cat had yacked up her breakfast.
Amanda's just come into work and admitted to letting them share the leftovers of last night's curry.