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

Tuesday, February 11, 2003

Crap drawing

Look at this rubbish:

She does not look anything like James Joyce...

Wacko Jacko

I had a bit of a strange moment this morning. I was reaching up to her chair to receive my grim daily ration of love and affection when I involuntarily let out a high-pitched squeak. They both laughed, of course, but I immediately saw the possibilities. Since Jacko has been humiliated in public by Martin Bashir, maybe there's room for a moonwalking, squeaking, streetwise, R'n'B kinda cat to make her way into musical hegemony. If I could just stay on my hindlegs long enough...

Who the f*** is Justin Timberlake?

Monday, February 10, 2003

Food and hypocrisy

No, not the latest Ken Loach film. He was sitting at the dinner table munching into a doner kebab, his face filled with a guilty satisfaction (and not a little grease). And I was thinking: my little brown balls of scientifically balanced nutritional crunchiness are all very well but sometimes you just want a lump of meat.

Now, as it happens, there was some shopping sitting on the floor of the dining room because in their haste to stuff greased lumps of meat and pitta into their faces, they couldn't be bothered to unpack straightaway. And one bag had the distinct aroma of ham. I was just sniffing. Nothing more. But he still told me in no uncertain terms to get away from it.

So, there you have it. He can break his 'diet' for a doner, but I can't have a little bit of ham when I fancy it. What's good for the gander is sauce for the goose or summat. Whatever.

Sunday, February 09, 2003

Suspicious (2)

They're off to the allotment. Ha! They're going there to 'clear the ground' so they can 'plant' something. Suddenly I realise the whole allotment thing is a ruse! It's a code word for... summat.


I've long suspected that they had dubious political leanings. But it still came as a shock to me when they come home last night with an anonymous-looking steel container. After a few moments messing around, he started parading it around using a carry strap. There was something distinctly militaristic about it.

As a responsible member of the community, I had to investigate what it was and I redoubled my efforts to gain access to the bedroom, which has obviously become their secret lair. I finally succeeded this morning using all my skill and ingenuity (they left the door open). My investigations are at somewhat of an impasse as they conducted a charade to convince me the metal container was merely to keep tea warm. Are they having a laugh?

I shall be demanding their full co-operation for future random inspections in case the tea story is a cover for the storage of chemical or biological weapons. I'll keep you posted.