In his latest column for The Journal, Southwold lurcher WORZEL writes about his mum's new camera.

Mum's got a new camera and now she finks she's David Bailey. It lets her take ten blinking piccies a second and I cannot actual very move without her setting this whizzing-clicky fing off. So far this week she's tooked 400 pictures of me and I'm getting really, wheely fed up with it.

I aren't that hinteresting. There are honly so many ways I can lie hupside down on the bed or roar around the beach and I've dunned them all. Perhaps she's hoping I are going to start walking on one leg or do a head stand or somefing but there are limits to wot I are prepared to do... and it's a quite actual reluctant sit and a lot of leaping over puddles.

I are starting to feel quite very sorry for David Beckham. And babies. I do not know how they do putting up with the hendless clackering-whizzy-clicking in their faces. It's no very wonder they start screaming when Auntie Doreen says coochy-coo to them. They know it's going to be followed by a hi-phone up their nose. And then everyboddedy gets too very busy saying 'oooh, that's a good one' at their hi-phone and not noticing that the baby has tipped their dinner on top of the dog. Babies, that actual is. Not David Beckham. Hobviously...

I did wonder about getting a baby so it could be photo'd and I could have the dinner tipped on me but Dad said a lot of fings about dead boddedy's and hell freezing over. So I don't fink I are going to be able to get one of them any time soon.

He says I should just do hiding in dark corners when Mum gets her camera out, it's wot he does. And anyway, soon the flowers bulbs will start coming out in the garden and Mum will get all hinterested in photo-ing them instead.

Honly trouble is, I've digged them all up. So, now my honly solution is to get David Beckham to come and stand in the garden. Funny fing is, Mum doesn't seem to fink that's such as bad idea!