"Hey, Twitter user!" Twitter shouts at me from the 'Who to Follow' section of my timeline, "Why don't you follow The Dalai Lama? He's really COOL and STRAIGHT and DOWN with THE KIDS."
I have absolutely no intention of following my arch-nemesis The Dalai Lama, for we have a bit of history, what with that entire "get to fuckery" business that got us off on the wrong foot.
"I have absolutely no intention of following The Dalai Lama," I said, stepping out of the bedroom to find our canine pal Dogston O'Hanrahan slipping out a length on the laminate floor in the hall. And the kitchen. And the living room. There is no shame in his eyes.
I hurl the errant Dogston out into the rain while I clear up the mess. In truth, O'Hanrahan is nearly seventeen years old, completely deaf, partially blind and beyond training, so he cannot be blamed.
The floor wiped spotlessly clean, Dogston is allowed inside once more, running through the house with an uncharacteristic canter, a large damp turd stuck to his front paw.
Dog out, and the cleaning tackle is retrieved from under the sink for a second time.
Dog in, and he is promptly sick on my foot.
I get the message, Dalai Lama. I'll follow you on Twitter.