Excepts from the journals of Pudsey the Dancing Dog - Winner of the 2012 series of Britain's Got Talent
(Translated from the woofs by Doctor Doolittle Jr.)
13th May 2013
I hate the ground that that full-mast trouser wearing prick stands on. Simon Cowell, I wouldn't lick your balls, I would bite the bastards off.
I write this, sitting locked in my room in the animal section of the Priory. My doctor tells me that the addiction needs these extreme measures. What started off in those hallowed days of success in May 2012 and an over consumption of some prize Winalot, spiralled out of control. I couldn't stop it, and that is why I find myself here, locked in this godforsaken kennel.
17th June 2013
Over a month in here and not a prize cut of beef in all that time. I feel better though, I really do.
My doctor took me for a walk again today and for the first time I didn't try and break free from my lead and eat a duck from the lake. The doctor patted me and and gave me a biscuit.
21st June 2013
I was weighed this morning. I have apparently lost two stone in the five weeks I have been here.
27th June 2013
Ashleigh came to see me today, the first damn time since they locked me up here. I gave her everything, without me she would still be in that cesspit that is Northamptonshire.
12th July 2013
I now feel much better in myself. I have been told that I am over the micro-chip addiction that I developed on the back streets of LA.
10th August 2013
Today was the day, I have been released from The Priory. My doctor tells me that I have made a full recovery. There is even a chance that I may dance again, but not with that turncoat Ashleigh, I have heard that she has three performing cats on America's Got Talent. I shall find a new artist to perform with, however I first have an appointment with some balls that are in need of biting.
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