Avatar Dear Beans… Terrific Tasty Terrier Tribulations

Dear Beans,

I’ve got a problem that I can’t tell anyone about. Only the anonymous helping hands of casa de Beans can save me. I am sweating like a scamp just typing these words. I will have to use a fake name so it cannot be traced back to me for FEAR of besmirchment. Besmirching? For the possibility of a bad smirch.

My dog, Lavish Kibbles, passed away a few weeks ago. He choked on a sausage mouse and never recovered. I cried for several days after and eventually I got my stuff together, and sorted him out. In order to save on costs and vets bills I buried him in the back garden. The only thing is after I dug the hole I lost all the mud (I think my neighbour may have stolen it, he’s building his own Hawaiian mud shack) so I needed a substitute. With only my wits about me, I turned to the contents of my kitchen cupboards. Thankfully I’d been to Costco the other day to stock up on essentials and I’d picked up a 600lb bag of Bisto. Using the gravy granules I covered up Lavish Kibbles and retreated to the sanctity of my living room.

The crazy Summer weather conditions continued. A hot rain fell towards the end of the week. With it came the tastiest smell, wafting up from the bottom of my garden. I knew what it was and I knew I needed to control myself in case anyone discovered my disgusting yet mouth-wateringly frugal ways.

From my window I can see a river of gravy starting to flow. In my dreams I’m walking towards it, arms outstretched, a gigantic breadbun in each hand, desperate to dip. I’ve tried making my own as a way of appeasing my tastebuds but it doesn’t smell or taste the same. Only the raw, disturbing aroma emanating from my back yard will quench my thirst.

What should I do; give in to temptation and chow down on my now ex-dog or look the other way?

Yours excitedly

Turbot Bojangles

16 comments on “Dear Beans… Terrific Tasty Terrier Tribulations

  • Dear Turbot,

    This is a very difficult problem indeed. Remember, though, that the seemingly bottomless gravy festival currently pooling in your garden will be flavoured with your dead dog and will be mostly cold now, with a thick skin forming on top.

    My advice would be to stir something into it that you really don’t want to eat, such as another dead dog. That should stop the cravings.

    Yours advisingly


  • So does he have to kill the dog before he puts it in or can be drown it in the gravy?

  • Dear Turbot,

    Do it. Eat your dead dog. You freak.

    Yours carelessly,


  • I think, for best results, he needs to find an already-dead dog, slowly putrefying in the street, and stir that in until it dissolves.

  • That seems pretty far-fetched. How many dead dogs are there going to be within the vicinity? He may need to take matters into his own hands (waaaaaaaaaaaay).

  • You’re right. A little bit of personal fumbling time in the darkness of his bedroom will take his mind right off it. Good work, Mac Mac Mac Mac.

  • Personal fumbling. In the darkness of his bedroom. How seedy. Such wrong punctuation too.

    Once he’s cracked off a couple of his own zingers (waaaaaay) he’ll be right as rain (Reign? Rein?). He’ll be fine.

  • What’s wrong with the punctuation. Show me the mispunctuated clause or phrase to which you refer. My punctuating is impeccable. Look:


    See? Genius.

  • I can’t argue with that. If there was a list of people who is good at puncting then yous would be right at the top.

  • I would be at the top, yes, and my name would be ensconced in the most elaborate and glorious punctuations you ever did see.

  • I think that is a satisfactory response for our dear Turbot, and hopefully the neighbours won’t sue.


  • If you want to eat two long-dead dogs that have been rotting in a hole in someone’s garden for a month, then be my guest. I’d advise microwaving at this stage because it would slop through the grill on a barbecue and put out the fire.

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