On a recent (and rare) trip to west London arm-pit Kilburn (to watch the Cheltenham Gold Cup in a suitably grotty Oirish boozer) I spotted the overwhelmingly bleak sight of a staffo whiling away its day chained up to a mobility scooter. Not the good life if your idea of fun is chasing after hares.
Sadly, it clearly wasn't the first time this poor staff had been forced to sit for hours as her owner filled the coffers of the bookies' fruities. How do I know this? Because as I, and other gawkers, busily snapped away on our smartphones, plenty of hard-bitten Kilburnites gave the poor pooch a weary nod, thumbs up or hat-tip of the type one only gives people (or animals) you don't actually know but see most days in your manor.