Can't you see, it's the chemistry
You really must agree, together we are beautiful

Oh, for fuck's sake. I'm barely cold in the ground. Couldn't you show just a little respect?

In later editions of our Valentine's feature for February, we asked our readers to send in pictures of themselves and their paramours, together with a copy of the Burglar's Dog book that brought them so much sensual pleasure on the most romantic night of the year.

Contributions simply dribbled down the legs of our in-box before arriving in a sticky mess on our bathroom carpet. As a result, and in spite of popular demand, we're resurrecting our Rogues' Gallery, this time with a star-cross'd twist, not to mention this fucking Amazon link once again.

(At Ł6.59 + P&P, it's an absolute bargain in anyone's eyes)

Like that blistered, seeping rash you thought had cleared up after last year's Valentine's debacle, our badly produced and tasteless gallery is back to ruin your day. Yet again we're clagging up pictures of all and sundry in a desperate attempt to shift a few units, longing for the day when our publishers tonto press can finally be free of surplus stock and start looking themselves in the mirror again.

And this time - since there are apparently some people who are too lazy to hover their cursor over the pictures - we're sticking all the libellous guff underneath. See? We go that extra mile because we're very fond of you. Here you are, then: more shite to ignore from now until the end of the month, and updated as soon as inspiration strikes. Chin up: there's only 28 days in February.

"As I was saying to Stephen Hawking, Wittgenstein and Carol Vorderman over contract bridge, I think this weighty tome would be absolutely essential reading for the cultured man in my life."

DY: "Look, THERE, on page 213. 'Nowt wrong with Dwight Yorke's taddlers.'"
KP: "Dwight, that's your handwriting. And it's in crayon, you thick mackem bastard."

"Hi. You don't know us, but we're out of this month's Asian Babes magazine, and we'd like to thank Dog reader Chris Wilson for sending us in."

"Oh George! The cottaging, the dope, them geps and the 25 years of lump-funk shite. I'll forgive you anything cos you got me this!"

"Aye, cheers, pet. I get you the publishing sensation of last year, and you get me apples. I bet you nicked the fuckers off that tree, an' all."

"Ha ha! 'Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?' Oh, I love that natural Scouse wit."

"I'm your Venus, I'm your fire, at your desire. Oh fuck. Wrong song."

WHORE! WHORE! WHORE! WHORE! WHORE! WHORE! WHORE! WHORE! WHORE! WHORE! WHORE! WHORE!

"Oh, mein liebe Adolf. Always mit ze genocide and always too tired for ze loving."

"OK, it's in D. Had my first hit when I was a minor. This prick here comes from North Carolina. Ooh, babe, ain't nothing finer. Than the sight of a drunk bird's plucked vagina."

"C'mon, sis. Look on the bright side for once in your life. At least we'll only have to shell out for one pink cowboy hat in Buffalo Joe's."

"Oh, great. It's not enough that we get shot by the polis at 4 in the morning, just for acting the punk. Now you're implying we're incestuous bhatti boys."

"And I-ee-I-ee-I will always love you-oo-oo-oh-oh-oh. I will always love you, and smack, and a good fucking leathering. For nowt."

"You paid a tenner for this? You want bloody shooting, you do really. I'd do it myself, if I hadn't already done it."

"This time I know it's for real. Any chance you could keep your eyes off that page boy, though, bitch-tits?"

"I'd like you to meet mah wife and mah cousin. And here she is. Man, ain't nothing tighter than a 13-year-old's sphinny."

"Would the real three-times-married-to-the-same-psycho daft cunt please stand up, please sta... "

"Eh? Why us? Could you not find a decent picture of Huntley and Carr, you sick fucker?"

"How can I tell her I'm living a lie? I'm in a stylish bistro with an A-list babe, and all I want to do is pork Matt Damon."

TT: "It's simply the best, better than all..."
IT: "You want to feel the back of my hand again, bitch?"

"It's a badly dressed dog with a misshapen napper. But enough about the wife..."

"Here man, Ashley, y'dafty. This has sold more copies than your autobiography. And they didn't have to ruin a mobile phone, either."

"Oy vey, Mahmood! Sorry about that shit with the rockets and that. I got you this book already. Pint? "

"(sigh) If only my Peter had stayed in with this, just for a few nights a week."

"Witty comment on shit celebrities and history's greatest monsters isn't really you, is it?"

"You wish you'd never started this stupid feature, don't you?"

"Back to the old school Burglar's Dog ranting next month, then? There's a good lad."

Complaints to the usual address.

Meanwhile, here's that link again, in case you missed it the first hundred times.