Good day my fine friends as you can see from today’s picture old LemMe, reclining here with my feet rested on a recumbent canine has been known to partake in the pastime of party shenanigans.   I had attended a popular concert performed by a pack of my pet pals who were, as is yours truly, also artisans of entertainment activity type.    Inspired by a rather successful UK Northern mop top type band of a 60`s bygone era and almost bug type name these doggy dudes had therefore subsequently formed a musical canine combo called `The Beagles` intending to hopefully cash-in on and attract a fan base through the typo-negligence of these Liverpudlian types T’interweb fan base.

A musical production  of `gig thingamajiggy` type  had been successfully played to promote their first hit, their own twist of a cover previously recorded by the said inspirational, insect-inspired, types own successful chant, partially retitled `Love me doaroooooooooooo`  and after said highly successful event we had then partied away until the debris bedecked Dawn and this six pet pack did make extremely short work of a questionable-number of six packs. 

Yours, conscientious, truly suggested a bit of a morning shimmy of a whiz-about-type armed with domestic, perhaps abrasive or caustic, cleaning fluids and equipments but the pet pack, not in the least bit perturbed at the post-party plight did fair scoff at this, I thought fair play type, suggestion and simultaneously stated "LemMe what on Gods good Earth do you thing we have people for".   He went on to relate that in no time at all said people will arrive at the
scene-in-need-of-a-clean by which time the conniving canines would be strategically arranged in a tidy array with over sized optical organs all agog and will dutifully greet the starting-to-boil-bodies with a love up and fuss of irresistible  proportion whereby hearts will have mushed up before the servile can muster up a bit of a kafuffle at yon mess.   To boot, rather than face a fatigue fest from deducing which party or parties out of the apparently perfect pets was the playtime perpetrator, said servile would admit defeat and not give a monkeys who is responsible and practise a shimmy of my previously suggested domestic cleansing type before being all pet-ted up and embarking on a lengthy and refreshing perambulate and frisky frolic lest a further necessitation for a clean up of canine catasrophe type occurred.

One Of my pet pals then went on to eductate me with "There is a myth LemMe that tis in our-types blood to be part of a pack and that a sole hound will pine in its lonely plight.   Well I say poppycock, tis nothing more than connivance to procure gratuitous license to run amok causing disarray in a fun fest guaranteed to dispense with culpable come-back on any one pet. Why only yesterday I alone in impish mode did topple a cup of café noir for the heck of it, I howled like a banshee throughout the otherwise silent night, I did disperse a considerable number of undergarments amok the lawn and cleansed my grubby paws and muzzle on the habitat upholstery and have suffered not one jot of retribution as who among my brethren will `grass me up` when said brethren will be in need of similar support on many a future occasion.
Hee hee, such Larks LemMe, why we are all pondering on petitioning for a cat on whom to lay the blame entirely and up the funning of this sport" 

Well yours quick-of-wit truly did ponder on whom the paw of blame might be potentially pointing to on the fine morning-after-the -ebauched debacle and did decide `I’ll be having none of it` and so in a mode of high jinks my goodself I did say "why I've been a-pondering and as a result believe you should perform a cover version of that old retro tune `Leader of the pack` though obviously there can only be one lead songster on this by implication of said tunes title
 
Yours, chuckling away, truly then departed with them fighting in lumps as, would you believe, egos has arisen and caused much consternation as to who exactly was in fact `Leader of this pack`