Tuesday, 20th February, 2007

My very strong prejudice against those in uniform who are just doing their job while bringing misery into the lives of others was brought to the fore early on Saturday morning by the arrival of the dog-catchers. I do realise that this opening sentence is terribly inelegant but, there, I've done it now, so I'll press on ...

I say "dog catchers" but the labels on their shoulders said "Animal Control Officer" (essential in central Sydney where hordes of wildebeests are liable to charge across the Harbour Bridge at the drop of a hat). Anway, there they stood at the back gate at 7.30 am, uniformed and ready to give our weekend a bureaucratic kick start. (The trouble with uniforms is that the people who wear them are all so ... well, uniform). Apparently some of our dogs had been "roaming the streets" (playing around outside the gate) and they had come to speak to the registered owner and ensure that the animals had been microchipped. Well, of course, the dogs haven't even been registered, let alone microchipped, as we see no reason to pay the local council for the privilege of having a dog and we also have a belief that the microchipping of animals is the first step towards the microchipping of humans. [By the way, this posting is nothing but a rant so please don't feel obliged to continue reading].

The smaller of the two Animal Control Officers (Hitler) did all the talking, telling us we were in violation of Section blah Subsection blah of blah and if we didn't cooperate the consequences would be blah blah which was when I started yelling and making extremely unoriginal comments about Nazi Germany blah blah. It's funny, I don't lose it very often but when I do I seem to step to one side and observe this completely berserk woman taking over and I watch the scene with a sort of dispassionate curiosity, wondering what she will do next.

The Animal Control Officers went away eventually to speak to their supervisor, having run some little gadget over the dogs to ensure they weren't microchipped as apparently my word couldn't be taken as truth and I stomped back to the kitchen for coffee and a fag and a post-dog catcher grumble. I think it's when these officious. power-mad, uniformed morons tell me I have to cooperate with them that I flip - I'm not going to cooperate or behave in an orderly manner - I'm going into the gas chambers screaming and fighting and taking some of their skin with me under my nails.

Finis.