Rolf.
Some years back, just as that blasted Vet show with Rolf had become popular, my parents decided to go on holiday, leaving me to fend for myself. Those two things aren't necessarily connected, but bare with me on this...

I also had to look after Bertie, the family mutt, who was rapidly approaching middle age. So much so in fact, that during my 'rents jaunt he ruptured his prostate gland and I came home to find a trail of blood across the house, and a whimpering dog in the corner of the living room.

Cue trip to vet by friendly neighbour (I was still a youngun and couldn't drive at this time).

Next thing I know, pompous TV producer type comes round the corner and informs me that "I want to be on TV" and that I need to sign a form.

I sign it, and promptly in walks a guy with a tripod, followed by another chap with camera. I'm half expecting Rolf to follow, but thankfully he doesn't.

Cue following rectal examining of pooch in which producer looks rather worried, and cameraman can't help but stifle his giggles. All captured to DV.

Somewhat surprisingly, I wasn't icluded in the final series, despite a followup interview with both me and the parents where they said how proud they were of me for not letting him die in the corner.

Not really a claim to fame I guess. Nevermind.
(Captain Skippy pooed in a bag and left it on your doorstep, Thu 24 Feb 2005, 20:34, Reply)