It was a perfect summer's day in England. Perfect in the sense that it hadn't rained for almost an hour.
I stood on the shore of Lake Windermere in the English Lake District marvelling at the peace and serenity of this most beautiful corner of my birthland.
On the odd occasion when the Sun peered out from behind the angry dark clouds in the sky, yellow rays of sunlight glinted off the surface of the water as it rippled gently in the light summer breeze.
Suddenly out of nowhere, an RAF Eurofighter jet roared down the lake then lifted its nose, lit it's afterburners and in an attempt to drill a six inch hole through my skull, made the second loudest noise I have ever experienced (see footnote) then disappeared over the horizon as quickly as it had arrived.
Assuming that World War III had just been declared and that we would all be dead by teatime I decided to grab a spot of lunch.
As I left the hostelry in which I had enjoyed an excellent sampling of the local food and beer I saw this amusing sign. I wonder how they were able to determine whether dogs were entering the premises under false pretences?
Footnote: The number one loudest noise I have ever experienced was self-inflicted. I parked my car at the end of a runway at Toronto's Pearson airport and wound down the window while Concorde was taking off directly overhead. I regained my hearing three days later.
"Comedy always works best when it is mean-spirited" - John Cleese
Author John Corby also writes as "Bulldogge" for the British Canadian newspaper.
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