• Join The Burglar's Dog as it investigates first-hand the pleasures of life supported by the Department for Work and Pensions, and watch it divide up its fortnightly Job Seekers' Allowance by the price of a pint in Popolo and come up with less than the quantity needed to get a mouse pissed.

• Come with us as we supplement our income by selling sportswear "borrowed" from Fenwicks to those lovely folk in the Black Garter, then sprinting along to The Clock to fritter away the proceeds on cut-price Carling in preparation for our daily punch-up before the 3.30 at Haydock.

• Plot a scatter-chart graph of the very cheapest bars in Newcastle at any point on any given day, and watch with dismay as the concept of brand-name spirits becomes alien to us.

• Read our diary and watch helplessly as jovial bitterness becomes all-consuming paranoia and hatred, moves sideways into self pity and regret, before finally dissipating into apathy, depression and catatonic stares.

• Chart The Dog's decline from simple four-bells-start drunkard to full blown Diamond-White-watching-Trisha alcoholic, and witness the ease with which a once-proud man can buckle under.

• Rage with us at The Man, the evil of the corporate world, and the exponentially-increasing greed of the human race, and prick up your ears as we quote you yet another tit-bit from No Logo with a tone that says: "YOU could have stopped this happening to US."

(* Subject to The Dog having the balls to finally take the money and run, e-mails actually being answered for once, and those fucking arseholes in Personnel sorting out the insulting pay-off.)