“Attagirl!” said the man, grabbing the lead.

The bitch looked at him, as if to say fuck you.

The man won, as he always did.

They walked.

They returned.

The bitch ate and the man drank cheap instant coffee.

Until one day.

Same “Attagirl!”

Same result.

Same walk.

Same meal.

Except this time, the man sat down before his coffee and nodded off, with the lead around his neck.

The bitch crept up to the man, took the hand strap of the lead and started to pull.

Only once the lead was taut did the man awaken.

A little too late.

The bitch left via the back door.

The police tracked her down.

The coroner corroborated the cause of death.

It went to court – the first time an animal had been tried for murder.

The case collapsed.

The bitch walked free.

The end.


They came in their thousands, the leaves, the twigs, the stones. They were here to see the tree, the standup tree, a force of gag-cracking nature impersonating the sensible chimp known as man. A tree so smart and so funny, it made its fellow flora laugh out loud.

This is the tree with no name…a mongrel of a trunk 70ft high with rubbery limbs that made mimicking us all the more expressive. The postures, the gestures, the intonation, you’d swear you were watching a post-historic Jackie Mason giant, abusing the gentiles. Yet, this was a time beyond The Road, the last human gone without as much as a tear expressed by the rest of the animal world.

So much for the largest brain of all.