The Cost of Sex with Saxon Sheep Minders.

Leslie Ash claimed that she broke a rib and punctured a lung during sex with her husband, Lee Chapman. Well, if her health insurance swallowed that belter then I could be in with a chance.
You see, it looks as if I'm going to have to claim on a policy by saying "She injured her leg falling off the back of an alsatian during sex!" That should tax the comedy claims department.
I'm not acting on Leslie's behalf, although she seems to have such an adventurous sex life that it does, admittedly, sound as though it could be one of hers. No, the injured female in this instance is my littlest dog, Tilly.
Our Till gets very excited when she goes in the car, so excited that she feels the evidently overwhelming urge to hump my alsatian, Padfoot. Pad is a shy, retiring kind of lad and is not overly keen on the attention but, with him, Till and two other dogs in the kennel compound in the back of my car, there is little room for manoeuvre. He just stands there and takes it, with typically British stoicism.
It's not easy trying to screw a dog which stands about as high as a Shetland pony. I'm not talking from experience, you understand. I'm talking on behalf of a dog which looks like a cross between a beagle and a hamster and is a mere 10 inches from paw to shoulder. Love making with a reluctant partner involves a lot of clambering and clinging.
Till, as is her custom, was aboard Pad yesterday afternoon as I drove the dogs to a local country park for a walk. She was getting to whatever the female equivalent of the vinegar strokes is when she fell off with a dull thud. She has been limping ever since.
If there is no improvement in her condition by tomorrow I shall have to take her to the vet. The vet's bills are extortionate but all the dogs are insured up to the hilt and I should be able to claim on this occasion.
Anyway, in the meantime, bizarre injuries resulting from sex with alsatians shall be the sole preserve of the people of Grantham.
NOTE: For the more obser-vant readers, Pither Towers is not actually some kine of squat - the torn wallpaper and chewed plaster in the photograph were a gift from Caty, one of the other dogs, and are about to be renovated.