Dear Lady and Gentleman dog walkers of the United Counties of Britland, you know who you are and you know what I’m going to say: Pack it in! Canine faecal matter does not grow on trees!

As Mistress Winter continues to march forth on her conquest of the landscape the issue is becoming more and more obvious. Now that the leaves have all but gone, little black or white plastic bags full of brownish substance can be seen swinging merrily from hedge rows and undergrowths throughout the countryside.

That countryside just happens to be my home! It’s all very well clearing up after you dog but what’s the point if all you’re doing is then essentially fly tipping pet excrement about the land? And only slightly off the beaten track.

What is the bloody point in bothering to clear up your animals mess only to lob it to the side of the path? Plastic doesn’t decompose but does fetter away into tiny scraps, where upon the canine evil within will fall to the floor. It will then be walked through, cycled though, hoofed through, eaten by badgers and generally soil the splendour of the countryside anyway.

A dog bog bag on the ground or a branch looks just as foul and unseemly as a big steaming pile on the track.

And it’s not like you can blame the dog now is it? Once it’s been about its ablution you don’t then give the bag to the animal to carry and discard of it responsibly of its own accord. It’s you, you are responsible.

Now there are myriad things wrong with dog’s insides, their bottoms and their leavings; but let’s do away with all the peanuts and go straight for the big job, the top dog: Toxocarisis , which is nature’s equivalent of the Atom Bomb. If it doesn’t blind you or your child or your horse it’ll turn you and the next generation into mindless zombies and the epidemic will quickly scour the world of humanity. Now while this may be appropriate for the future children of Britain if they want to vote Tory it doesn’t really help us now. And the future will be too late.

Now, I couldn’t tell you if this biological abhorrence is because of the dog food manufacturers or perhaps that Fido’s insides are naturally tantamount to a pestilence factory designed to eradicate nature and all human existence. But If this problem is not wiped clean soon I might very well be forced to acquire some pup poop placcy-bags and start doing my business with in them; then I’ll just take a stroll to the nearest village and casually and haphazardly discard them in peoples gardens, see how they like it. Or perhaps even go so far as to take a toilet roll and a newspaper into their gardens while they are out walking Rover. These culprits assume it’s okay on my grounds. As long as it is in a bag its ok, right?

I may start even following offending doggists home and start leaving their own little plastic poo presents on their wing mirrors and window wipers.

Did our beloved Isaac newton have his revelation and invent gravity after a poo bag fell out of a tree on to his head? Nay! Did Robin Hood hide from the sheriff’s men among the branches of the Major Oak which was bejewelled with steaming piles of effluent? No sir!

This, dear Ladles and Jellyspoons, is our English countryside. This is my neck of the woods. This is our heritage and our livelihood. Let’s not make a dog’s dinner by-product of it.

However I should admit the very few doggy-doings bins that I have seen around the locale are in a state of disrepair. So what, another government fumble at trying to make Britain great and tidy again that lost impetus? Another spin that they can’t be bothered to continue to administrate now that the fuss has died down? Is it now ok to let your dog’s defecate anywhere at will again?

So what’s to be done? Shoot all dogs? Hmmm, not sure that’s a great idea; we are a nation of dog fanciers apparently and the furry critters are good for keeping us fit, getting us out in the fresh air and helping us to reduce stress to name but a few pros.

So, shoot all dog owners? Getting better, I like this very much. But then surely dog sanctuaries and the city streets would be overrun with free-fouling animals who have suddenly become homeless.

Repair the Dog Bog Bins? Probably a great solution, if our about-to-be-post-Brexit county councils can afford it and indeed the little foreign gentlemen who go round emptying and maintaining them. But that does not ensure that dog owners, or very well-trained and incredibly supple dogs, use the facilities.

Now I often spend time with fantastical creatures in the more enchanted woodland areas of the kingdom so I have it from the horse’s mouth so to speak: The Dog Poop Faerie does not exist! And that nugget of wisdom comes from the Tooth Faerie and the Faerie Queen herself!

But I have the answer. Simple really: Dog Corks. Police and those strange little community officer people will be given the power to issue huge on-the-spot fines to any one in public with a dog that doesn’t sport a cork. The only time the animals are allowed to not be bunged is when they’re at home in their own damn garden or at a suitable and understanding acquaintances property who probably also owns dogs.

I believe I may have saved the county councils a slop-bucket load of cash just now; I expect my cheque in the post. I thank you.

Kindest regards

The Satyr.

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