Fluffyworld

The news of the day as seen from the perspective of a pensionable domestic moggy called Fluffy.

Thursday, October 03, 2002

The world's funniest joke

"A couple of New Jersey hunters are out in the woods when one of them falls to the ground. He doesn't seem to be breathing, his eyes are rolled back in his head. The other guy whips out his cell phone and calls the emergency services. He gasps to the operator: "My friend is dead! What can I do?" The operator, in a calm soothing voice says: "Just take it easy. I can help. First, let's make sure he's dead." There is a silence, then a shot is heard. The guy's voice comes back on the line.

He says: "OK, now what?"

Place to my self! Place to my self!

They're off to Nottingham on Saturday. This house is PARTY CENTRAL while they're away.

I'll fire into the gin as soon as they walk out the door, assuming the swines haven't marked the bottle. Maybe I can top it up with water...

Even I wouldn't do that

They were having some kind of discussion about money last night and he said he had to phone his credit card company. So, he sits down on the bed, credit card in one hand and the phone in the other. Then he starts fidgeting, getting confused, and before you know it he's putting the credit card to his ear instead of the phone. Then they both start laughing.

Hmmm... maybe I just don't get it but he was just being stupid, right? I don't think it's a good thing to celebrate stupidity. I mean, they go on about how humans need rights because they're really intelligent and then they just act daft. I just put my paws over my eyes in despair.

I'm such a tease

So the truth will out! She likes me on my back, prone and ready to be man-handled, looking cute with come-and-rub-my-tummy eyes.

You've either got it or you haven't. And I've got two.

Tuesday, October 01, 2002

The world is not enough

Of course, my experience of fame has held back other ambitions. Particularly, my craving to be an international super-spy. Listen, you may laugh, but I've got what it takes. I'm a cat. I'm cunning, selfish, agile, quick-witted. People never pay any attention to me as I sneak in and out of rooms. I can listen into their conversations, plant bugs, do foreign accents where necessary.

But they'd clock me when they remembered who I was in the past (see below). So I just mess about at home, honing my skills. Abseiling down from the loft, that kind of thing, barely visible in the dark with my black poloneck sweater and Guns-of-Navarone woolly hat.

And I love gadgets.

HearSay split

And though they care, no-one else does. I mean, they were just manufactured. I know all about it from my experience in the all-feline band "Take Cat" in the early nineties. I was young, and naive. We just wanted to make music and if that meant swallowing our pride and taking to the stage as an all-miaowing, all-dancing five-piece, so be it. We didn't write the songs, we didn't choose the outfits, we were just puppets. We were barely more than kittens.

But we soon grew up as we were exposed to the harsh realities of the music industry. When we were successful, we were lauded, we had everything we wanted. Our bowls were filled with the finest meats, we drank the most expensive sparkling waters, we had gorgeous Toms supplying our every need - if you know what I mean. And then? Nothing. Suddenly, we were the soon-forgotten deposits in the litter tray of musical history. I tried going solo. I tried making a few quid endorsing Go-Cat (yuk) and LitterPal but to no avail.

These days, I make music for me, my kind of stuff. If the world ain't listening, who cares. And you know, spiritually, I feel much more at peace.