Under The Dragon’s Tail

Posted June 10, 2010 by spider34
Categories: comedy, Humour, Science, Uncategorized

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With the exception of an occasional passing reference, I’ve never really mentioned my work in this blog.

I  am a junior clerical bio-botanical physicist in what was, up until recently, a government-funded laboratory. As we routinely used animals in our experiments (though in entirely humane ways I might add, no smoking beagles here) we often have to deal with quite a lot of protesters congregating outside. Our funding was pulled just over a year ago though and my boss, Dr Proteus decided to look elsewhere for finance.

Dr Proteus is without doubt the most intelligent man I have ever met, whose polymathic genius is matched in scale only by his apparent contempt for me. It was he that first struck upon our latest research project, the brilliance of which both astounds and disturbs me. Faced with pressure from Animal Rights groups, a lack of funding and looming debts, Dr Proteus did what all great men do in these situations. He offered our services to the highest bidder and hang the ethics. Sure enough we were soon being funded by a large international corporation, though what possible interest they could have in Dr Proteus’ unusual proposal I have yet to fathom.

Our facility is somewhat interesting,  in that it is set up specifically to approach projects from a multidisciplinary perspective. We have physicists, molecular biologists, behavioural psychologists, botanists, geneticists and a whole range of other scientific disciplines represented, some of whom work for us on a pro rata basis and some of whom are permanent staff like me. Dr Proteus is a great believer in employing staff who are flexible across many disciplines. For instance I am a junior clerical bio-botanical physicist so my job incorporates  elements of biology, botany, physics, mathematics and typing. This means that any time the facility has been under financial threat, Dr Proteus has been able to change the shape of our entire operation with consummate ease, ensuring our continued survival as a centre for scientific excellence.

Our most recent metamorphosis has worried me slightly however. You see, what Dr Proteus realised was that we had a vast resource of potential subjects right on our doorstep. Literally on our doorstep, shouting, chanting and waving placards. Our studies are now almost entirely focused on the animal rights protesters that congregate outside the lab.  We now have a huge range of studies and experiments on protesters in progress and ironically, all the animals we do have in the labs are kept in very humane conditions.

Test Group 5C - Nil By Mouth

Apart from the fact that this seems a very strange subject for serious scientific study, there are two things that are really worrying me about this project. One is that all the different departments are being kept in the dark about what the other departments are working on, which is unheard of at our facility and seems a little too reminiscent of The Manhattan Project for my liking. The other is that we haven’t been told what the overall aim of the project is and repeated enquiries have only led to thinly veiled threats from Dr Proteus. I’ve been in a quandary for the last two weeks over whether or not to try to find out more. I could lose my job if I get caught snooping but on the other hand can I continue to work in place whose ethics I have no reassurance of? At least when we were testing on animals I knew that people were getting good antiperspirant protection as a result. I was making the world a better smelling place.

I’ve decided I am going to get to the bottom of it all. I’ll let you know how I get on.

All Days Are Nights to See Till I See Thee

Posted May 18, 2010 by spider34
Categories: comedy, Humour, pet care, Uncategorized

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

It’s easy to take for granted the presence of another. Sometimes you potter along, living your life and thinking that things will stay the same indefinitely, when suddenly that presence is removed from your life and you are left utterly bereft. Only unfillable space is left, mocking you with its emptiness even as you reach into thin air hoping to grasp at something, anything that may have been left behind.

In my case that space has been left by the absence of Richard, my mangy, antisocial and possibly homicidal cat. Why I would even miss him may be a mystery to most and in truth I can’t exactly explain it. I just got used to having him around I suppose. When I get home from work at the lab now there is generally very little in the way of tidying to do, which should seem like a blessing but in truth tends to leave me at a bit of a loose end. I keep hoping that I will come home to find the shredded remains of his Rizla packets on the couch, or the coffee table littered with his crushed cans of Tennants Super. Then I would know he had returned to me. However twisted and perverse our relationship might be, at least it would confirm that connection between us that I have searched for in vain since bringing the sullen little fellow home all those months ago.

I'm not even sure he drinks, I have a feeling he just empties them, then leaves them for me to clear up.

It had, of course, occurred to me that Richard’s absence was just the latest in a long line of torments which he has chosen to bestow upon me. In the last few days there has been a further development, though I don’t know if it confirms this suspicion or not. I received the below postcard from him, make of it what you will.

Did you steal all daddy's money and go on holiday? Did you? Whooose a naughty kitty den?

I know he can write if he wants to, he's been sending threatening emails to Yvette Fielding in my name for months

I would like to think that he is just letting me know that he is alright, though I feel that sort of consideration on his part would be a little out of character. He obviously realises that I must have discovered his duplicity in faking his own kidnapping by now, otherwise he wouldn’t have sent it. So is he sticking two claws up at me or is he trying to rebuild bridges?

I’ve seriously been considering heading to Costa Rica to track him down myself, though how you would begin trying to find a stray cat in Costa Rica is anyone’s guess. I imagine local law enforcement officers wouldn’t be that impressed if they asked me where I last saw my cat and I answered, “Kent”. I also have a sneaking suspicion that if I did go out there I would end up in some sort of dangerous game of cat and mouse with Richard and I don’t want to be the mouse.

I’ve realised that I will send myself crazy trying to second guess his intentions, or read any hidden meaning behind what common sense should tell me is the truth. Sometimes you just have to accept that someone has moved on and learn to live with it. The only thing to do is get on with my life and throw myself into my work. Which is why I decided I would start blogging again. I initially set the blog up to relate my experiences as a new cat owner but I think that as of next week I will finally tell you all about life at the lab. Until he reappears that is, if he ever does.

Come Thou No More For Ransom Pt 2

Posted April 11, 2010 by spider34
Categories: comedy, Humour, pet care

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I hope he hasn't developed Stockholm Syndrome

If you have been reading my other posts you will know that over the last couple of weeks I have been held to ransom by evil cat-nappers who were demanding that I leave twenty thousand pounds hidden behind the local fishmongers if I ever wanted to see Richard alive again.

The appointed hour approached and I decided to make my way to the drop point a little early. Should I just deposit the money now or wait for the precise time?  The only signs of life in the alley were a couple of mangy cats sniffing about down the opposite end, so I deposited the money in what looked like the appropriate bin and walked back around the corner. That was when a new idea struck me. As the alley curved sharply away from the main road and houses ran all the way along the back of the alleyway, I could safely climb into one of the gardens out of sight of the alley or the road. This meant that if I was agile and quiet enough I could climb over all the intervening fences and spy on the person who picked up the money. If I was lucky I might even be able to follow them to their hideout.

I carefully climbed into the first garden without too much difficulty as there was a gate with a handle to put my foot on and a post to grab on to.  The next was a bit more tricky, as the fence panels were very rickety and I didn’t know if I could get over without making a racket. I found myself wishing that my youth had been more mis-spent. When I finally managed to haul myself up on to the sturdiest looking panel, the top slat abruptly snapped under my foot, unbalancing me and sending me headlong into a dark mass of pain that must have been a rosebush, considering the amount of damage it did to me. I crawled across the grass of the garden emitting quiet moans and keeping a careful eye on the house for any signs of disturbance. One more fence to go, and this one at least looked fairly easy to overcome as it was low enough to get my foot on top of and haul myself over.

Now finally I was in the one garden that should give me a good vantage point on the alley and with five or six minutes to 11 O’Clock I still had time to get into position. I reached the spot next to a shed at the end of the fence where I would be able to see the bin, but unfortunately there appeared to be an obstacle in the way that I couldn’t properly make out in the darkness. I reached down and found some sort of cord attached to something larger and heavier. I thought that it was probably a child’s pedal car or something of that nature, so I decided to carefully pull it out of the way. It seemed to be stuck on something and wouldn’t budge, so I tugged a bit harder to no avail. Finally I gave it a short, sharp tug and the cord seemed to give a little, but was immediately accompanied by a loud motor kicking into life.

“Oh my God!” I whispered, “A lawnmower!”

Suddenly lights came on in the house and I saw a man run into the kitchen and begin unlocking the back door. I quickly hid behind the nearby shed, destroying a huge number of spider webs that had collected between the shed and the fence. I might not have mentioned before, but I hate spiders more than the Scottish hate the English. More than everyone hates the English.

“Hello, is someone down there?”

I shrunk as far behind the shed as I could. Two minutes to eleven. If he was still looking about when the hour came around I was going to have to risk popping my head above the level of the fence in the hope of seeing Richard’s captors. He approached slowly and cautiously down the garden. My stomach seemed to be trying to turn itself inside out, as the whirring mower was illuminated under his torch-light a few feet away. I could hear him muttering as he approached and despite my scientific training, found myself praying to any god that might be listening that he wouldn’t cast the torch in my direction. Eventually he was standing next to the chugging contraption, which he stood perplexed over for several long seconds before reaching down and switching it off. Damn! I might have done that myself before he came out, had I not been consumed by panic. Standing back he swung the torch along to the other end of the fence, then began slowly sweeping it back  in my direction.

I was seconds away from being discovered when a tremendous crash in the alley mercifully diverted his attention. He stepped quickly to the fence to look out into the alley and I took the opportunity to pull myself carefully up and peer over too. Sure enough the bin was on its side, with no sign of the bin liner that I had deposited there earlier and no sign either of whoever had removed it. Whoever it was they must have been lightning quick.

The owner of the house seemed satisfied that his inexplicable mower and the bin were somehow connected, switched off his torch, muttered, “Fucking greys”, (bizarrely) and turned back toward the house. I was just about to breathe a huge sigh of relief when a loud beeping in my pocket almost gave me a coronary and, more importantly, signalled my presence once and for all. I hurriedly removed my phone from my pocket to see the reminder I had set earlier reading ‘11.00pm Drop £££ to get R back. Choose socks 4 tmrw’. I had no sooner switched it off than I was being blinded by the fellow’s torch, but instead of the tirade of abuse, threats and possibly violence that I was expecting he turned out to be astonishingly placatory.

“Okay, okay, let’s not do anything rash here. I don’t want any trouble.” I was with him there. “No one wants to hurt you. Why don’t you just leave and we can pretend you were never here?”

Well, this sounded like a very reasonable proposition. I realised then the image that I must have presented to the man. I was filthy from crawling through gardens, covered in spider webs, the rosebush had left my bloody clothes and skin ripped and tattered and, perhaps most importantly, I was waving Richard’s gun erratically as I tried to balance on the planks and broken toys stowed behind the shed. Some instinctive part of my brain took over and pressed my advantage.

“Take that torch out of my face, erm, sucker,” I said, trying to sound like a desperate criminal. Instead my voice came as the strangled, high-pitched bark of the mentally unstable (not unlike Dr Proteus sounded after the incident with the protesters), but seemed to have the desired effect nonetheless. The man immediately snapped off his torch and began to back slowly away.

“Alright, now go inside the house and lock the doors, there are dangerous people about tonight.” I thought it seemed like the sort of pithy comment that people make in The Terminator and that sort of thing. The man didn’t seem to appreciate it and backed quickly to the house.

I knew I would have to be quick. He was sure to call the police and I would have a hard time explaining this if I was still around, but I had to get out into the alley and see if I could spot any clues left by the kidnappers. I quickly hauled myself over the fence and ran toward the bin. All that was left inside was fish guts and they smelled horrendous. It was so dark that I couldn’t make anything out and I was running out of time. I resolved to get myself home and cleaned up and, if Richard had not been returned, come back at first light. Hopefully there would be no police hanging around by then either.

I managed to get home without being seen so far as I could tell. I closed the door behind me and almost immediately the strength in my legs seemed to disappear. As I collapsed to the floor that evenings dinner decided to make an appearance and I was violently sick on the hallway rug, the one my mother always hated because it reminded her of Leslie Crowther.

I couldn’t believe the night I had been through, but the most surprising thing was the way that I felt. Kneeling there on the carpet, covered in cuts and with Pasta alla Carbonara congealing on the carpet beneath me, yet for some insane reason I felt amazing. I had just been through several of the most frightening experiences of my life, yet I had come through them alive. I was filled with adrenaline and even the fact that I had lost the money didn’t dampen the feeling of invincibility that I was experiencing.

Oh, just let me find you buggers, I thought, just let me get hold of you and I’ll give you such a thrashing for what you have put Richard and I through. I wanted to go straight back out and hunt them down, but my reason still held enough sway to convince me to wait it out. After all, what if Richard returned and I wasn’t here?

Gradually my adrenaline high subsided and I crashed back into gut churning fear once more. Hours had passed since the alley and dawn was approaching. Still no sign of Richard. What if they had killed him anyway. They had their money now. He was of no further use to them and he might be able to identify them. Oh what a naïve, trusting dolt I had been. Had I damned Richard simply by trying to pay off the kidnappers as they had requested? There was nothing else for it, I was going to have to go back and investigate and if I could find nothing I would go to the authorities.

As the light began to rise over the sleeping town, I tucked the gun back into my trousers and stepped out into the spring morning. I walked past the entrance to the alley a few times and once I was satisfied that there was no one around I slipped down to where the bin still lay on its side. To my relief there was a tell-tale trail of fish guts leading away from the bin, as if the bin liner containing the money had dripped the stuff as it was carried away. Strangely, the trail led straight to an adjacent fence and stopped. I approached the fence and cautiously looked over. On the other side of the fence was an ill kept garden, but on the path that led through the thickets of weeds I could make out the odd bone and fish head. So that was how they managed to escape so fast. What I had to try to find out now was whether this was merely a convenient escape route or if this house was in fact the kidnapper’s hideout.

I clambered nimbly over the fence, surprised by how quickly I appeared to have become adept at this. Multiple lacerations are an excellent teacher. Following the path I crept past an ancient looking greenhouse that was almost entirely engulfed in the wild flora of the garden. It could almost have been a nature reserve were it not for the occasional piles of car tires, rain heavy bags of rubbish and old rusted household items placed arbitrarily along the side of the path. The path itself was clear though, indicating that someone had some use for it, though whatever that might be it certainly wasn’t to garden.

Beyond the greenhouse I came within view of the house itself. There was a sliding glass patio door, like the one I ran head first into at my best friend Andrew’s house when I was six, but no other point of entry that I could see. The curtains were open but the darkness within prevented me from seeing any details of the room. Should I wait a while or go and inspect at closer range? I debated this for about ten minutes and eventually decided to go for a closer look.

Just as I began moving forward a light came on in the living room and a man with multiple piercings and tattoos wandered into view wearing an incongruous Homer Simpson dressing gown. Volvo! Richard’s friend/dealer who had been eating me out of house and home just a couple of weeks ago.

Now I saw what must have happened. Volvo must have seen one of my letters from Auntie Josie’s solicitors and hatched his cowardly plan to abduct Richard and fleece me for ransom. I knew no good would come of Richard falling in with these sorts of people. Well, I wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

Richard, I thought, if you are alive I am coming to save you. If you’re not, well then, I’m jolly well going to avenge you, one way or another.

I wasn’t exactly sure how I was going to do either of these things, but I had made it up so far and flattered myself that I hadn’t done too badly.

Volvo wandered back out of the room so I seized my chance to approach the house unseen. The patio door was unlocked and I slid it open as quietly as I could, removed Richard’s gun from my belt and crept into the living room beyond. The floor was littered with every kind of half-eaten food container imaginable. I counted at least five overflowing ashtrays, though there may have been more hidden beneath the various piles of damp smelling clothes. The place definitely had the smell of cat to it, though I suspect it would have had that smell even if no cat had ever set foot in there.

Upstairs I could hear movement, so I crept steadily forward and peeked into the hallway. All clear. I felt like Jodie Foster in The Silence of the Lambs, only taller and with more realistic hair. I checked the kitchen, which was in much the same state as the garden and the living room, before making my way to the stairs. As I began my ascent, I began to discern the coarse symphony of bowel movements issuing from above. While unpleasant this did provide me with some sense of Volvo’s location. So long as I could hear his grunts and other noises I should be safe to quietly inspect the other rooms for any sign of Richard. Assuming that is, that there were no accomplices lurking about the place. There were three bedrooms, all of them more disturbing even than the rooms downstairs. The last one at the end of the hall had a dizzying array of bondage gear in it, including a few items whose purpose I wouldn’t like to guess at. It was clear that this was a hobby of Volvo’s, but it may also have been the perfect place to keep Richard secured. Worryingly there was no sign of him anywhere.

The toilet flushed and I practically leapt into the nearest room. I heard the door unlock and watched as Volvo sleepily shuffled past in what I realised were my slippers. I’d been looking for them for the last month. It was probably my anger on this point more than any other that spurred me forward into my next course of action.

I stepped out onto the landing behind Volvo and, lost for anything else to say, said, “Volvo”.

If I was alone in my house, wandering out of the bathroom, when an unexpected voice suddenly spoke my name behind me, then you would probably have to send for a medic to revive me. After you had gotten me down from the ceiling. Volvo just said “Huh?” and turned around, though his eyes did widen in surprise when he recognised the gun-toting intruder. He slowly raised his hands.

“Oh shit. You weren’t supposed to figure it out this soon.”

This wasn’t the reaction that I had hoped for but at that particular moment I was too distracted to discern any meaning from his words. When he had raised his hands his dressing gown had fallen open, revealing Volvo’s naked torso, a sight that I will no doubt relive in nightmares for years to come.

“How…? Isn’t that…? Why would you even…? Doesn’t that hurt?” I asked incredulously.

“Well, for the first couple of days a little, but you get used to it after that.” He looked down at the gun. “Look, put that away man, you’re not going to use it.”

“I might say the same thing to you.” I was Mr Comeback tonight. I felt like Dirty Harry. Well, after five minutes in Volvo’s house anyone would feel like they needed a shower. “Anyway, I’m not putting down the gun because if you’ve hurt my poor defenseless little kitten you’ll be surprised what I’m capable of.” Bullies of the world cower in fear! Someone has given a wimp a gun.

“Why would I hurt him? If you hadn’t found me he would have made me a lot of money. And he’s far from defenseless. Or poor for that matter.”

At times like this you need the ability to swear naturally to really sound tough and drive your point home. It’s not a skill that I ever really acquired. Whenever I try I seem to inadvertently revert to language that I picked up in the Beano.

“Oh yes, you would have made a lot of money, but the game is up now, you… you… kidnapping rotter!”

For the first time since he had first seen me, Volvo looked genuinely surprised.

“What are you talking… You think I really kidnapped him don’t you? Aw man, that is classic.” He began to laugh.

The 2nd law of thermodynamics states that all systems naturally decay towards entropy, or chaos. My interactions with other people seem to obey this law too. I had begun this conversation with the upper hand. I was armed, I had the element of surprise and I was on a righteous mission to save Richard. Now I was completely lost at sea. Finally Volvo recovered himself enough to explain.

“I didn’t kidnap Richard you muppet, this whole thing was Richard’s idea. He came to me and offered me two grand if I helped him.”

He was telling the truth, I knew it immediately. How had I managed to paint that evil creature as some sort of naïve, vulnerable lost lamb? After everything Richard had done to me already, how could I doubt what Volvo was telling me. Still, the scope of his Machiavellian scheme was surprising even to me.

So where was Richard while all this was going on? Well, it turns out that I had missed him by only a few hours. Having lost heavily on his internet gambling account, Richard had hatched the fake kidnapping plan to fund a sightseeing trip to Costa Rica that he had been secretly planning for some time.

In the end I could hardly blame Volvo too much for his participation. I got back the two thousand pounds that he had taken as his cut (I do wonder if he was telling the truth about that, but I’m not sure he is that clever) and I locked him out of his own house naked and attached to a lamp-post with a pair of furry handcuffs, so I think you’d have to say that we are pretty much even. Mind you, with all the cutlery he seems to have stuck through various parts of his body, he probably found something to pick the lock with, assuming he could overcome the cold. He did leave me with some food for thought before I set off for home though. Something that keeps coming back to me when I’m wondering what I should do about Richard.

“Listen man, I know some crazy, dangerous people, y’know? I’ll tell you, Dicky is one dark cat man. Maybe the darkest I ever met. Eighteen grand? If you never see him again you should count your blessings. You got off cheap.”

Maybe he’s right. I wonder if I should get a dog?

If you have been reading my other posts you will know that over the last couple of weeks I have been held to ransom by evil cat-nappers who were demanding that I leave twenty thousand pounds hidden behind the local fishmongers if I ever wanted to see Richard alive again.

Come Thou No More For Ransom Pt 1

Posted April 4, 2010 by spider34
Categories: comedy, Humour, pet care, Uncategorized

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I know I’ve said this before, but don’t ever let anyone tell you that owning a cat is inexpensive. With what I’ve spent on Richard so far I could have brought up two children and sent them off to university. It probably would have been a lot more rewarding too.

I haven’t updated for a couple of weeks now because my life has been in complete turmoil. Richard didn’t come home and after the fourth day I was starting to get decidedly worried. You would think I would be relieved, after all the complaining I do about him, but it seems I have gotten used to having him around. I began to find myself staring forlornly at his radiator cat bed, his claw marks on the TV remote and his framed collection of butterfly knives.

Then, on the fifth day this arrived in the post.

They even made him put his little paw marks on it, awww

As you can imagine, I was in a state of sheer panic. Who could have taken Richard (they were braver men than I) and what could they possibly want? Then it hit me. Auntie Josie. Only last week I had received a substantial inheritance of over £25000 after the death of my mother’s sister. Though we weren’t exactly close it turns out that I was her only living relative and, ironically enough, she’d always said that she was “damned if I’m going to leave it to some bloody cat charity”. How they knew about the money was beyond me but I imagine professional criminals have all kinds of ways of accessing that kind of information.

That night I didn’t sleep a wink. I thought about going to the police, but how seriously would they take a cat-napping anyway? Was it possible the kidnappers were bluffing? What might they do to Richard if I disobeyed their instructions? How did I even know he was still alive and well? Oh the poor, sweet kitten, how unfair I had been to be so critical. How wrong to imagine that his little acts of rebellion could be ignored instead of recognising them as the cries for help that they truly were. How wrong to believe that he was capable of looking after himself, when in truth he was small and vulnerable and now in mortal danger due to my callous disregard.

The next morning I received a phone call, though the voice on the other end of the phone sounded like one of those robotic voices from a computer program. For a disconcerting moment I was convinced that I was being held to ransom by Stephen Hawking. It was disappointing because I had my dictaphone at the earpiece of my phone in the hope that the police might later use the voice to identify the villainous scoundrels. Here is what they had to say for themselves.
Ransom recording by Richard and Me

I didn’t know what to do, I’ve never been in a situation like this before. Well, come to think of it there had been that incident with Dr Proteus at the lab a few weeks ago, (which he inexplicably blamed me for by the way!) but that was just protesters and he escaped with only a hairline fracture and some minor rope burns. This seemed like it could be a matter of life or death for Richard if I made the wrong decision.

I decided to follow their instructions which, in case you had any difficulty understanding, were basically to leave twenty thousand pounds in a bin behind the local fishmongers. I had no choice but to comply, but I wasn’t going to go unprepared. After half an hour of rummaging through Richard’s bedroom I found what I was looking for. His Beretta. I wouldn’t take any ammunition, but at least I could give them a scare if it came to some sort of confrontation.

I visited the cash point before remembering that I only had a £250 daily limit on withdrawals, so I went into the bank. I daren’t ask for used notes as I thought this would raise questions in an already conspicuous situation. I decided that if any of the notes looked new I would go and get them changed in a few shops. Unless they were all new, in which case I might be walking around shops all day. As luck would have it they all appeared to be old anyway.

Now I was prepared for the night ahead, and what a night it would turn out to be.

…continues next week

You are deceived. Your brother Richard hates you.

Posted March 11, 2010 by spider34
Categories: comedy, Humour, pet care

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Perhaps this is an oxymoron, but I am becoming increasingly convinced that Richard is waging an active campaign of passive aggressiveness against me. Perhaps this is just a normal experience for first time cat owners such as myself. Perhaps Richard is simply asserting a feline prerogative that comes naturally to him. Perhaps replacing my contact lens solution with a mixture of Deep Heat and Loctite is normal behaviour for a cat his age.

Whatever the reasons for his obvious pleasure in my discomfort, I can’t help but wonder why he even stays around, given that he clearly has an intense dislike of me, the house and it’s décor. He has already taken possession of and redecorated the spare room. I was going to turn that into a hobby room, if I ever got a hobby.

Where he got the Zebra from is anyones guess

Personally, I blame the internet. He’s on there morning, noon and night recently. Whether it’s internet gambling (he’s steadily amassing a worryingly large fortune), looking at ‘lolcats’ pictures or the other website that he’s always on but closes as soon as I come in the room, I can’t get five minutes on the computer at the moment. I’ve been wanting to check my emails all week to find out if my Daniel O’Donnell CD has been posted yet.

You may think that it is paranoid to believe that my cat is out to get me, but let me just explain some of the things he has done.

  • He has left me little dirty presents all around the house, which I know is simply to annoy me because he is perfectly capable of using the toilet.

I can't shake the feeling that this peculiar arrangement means something

  • He hides things that he knows I will need, such as my car keys, my mobile phone and my insulin.
  • He ties my shoelaces together. Fairly trivial you might think, except that he ties them around my ankles and wrists while I sleep. How I don’t wake up I have no idea. Perhaps it’s something to do with the bottle of Flunitrazepam that I found in his room. God knows what else he does while I’m sleeping the sleep of the date raped.
  • You know the old saying “look what the cat dragged in”? Last week he dragged in 3 prostitutes, 2 drug addicts, a drunk Dutch couple travelling around Europe on their bicycles and Michael Barrymore.

Yes, you read that correctly, Michael Barrymore. I have no idea how that came about but he was the worst of the lot. If you can imagine having a Morris Dancer performing in your house for three days solid,  spouting gobbledegook and stopping randomly to weep like a  wounded child, then you’ll probably have a fair idea of what it was like. Richard, when he was there, seemed to be taking great enjoyment in the whole thing. I suspect that it was more my general unhappiness that amused him than the lunatic bouncing around the house like an orangutan on a pogo stick. I sensed Richard was becoming bored by the third day and Barrymore abruptly disappeared. There’s a freshly covered over patch of earth in the back garden which I’m scared to investigate further.

Twat

Richard’s gone out for a while, giving me the rare chance to access the computer and what do I discover? He’s cancelled my Daniel O’Donnell CD and ordered the entire back catalogue of some band called ‘Type O Negative’. I’m hoping that they are in a similar vein to Daniel’s velvety lilting tones or I shall be very peeved.

Offense is rank, it smells to heaven

Posted March 1, 2010 by spider34
Categories: comedy, Humour, pet care, Reviews

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

I went on a bit of shopping spree as planned, hoping to show Richard that I really care for him by spoiling him rotten.

Without exception I was disappointed in all the items I purchased, so I set about writing some pretty scathing reviews.

Litter Kwitter Cat Toilet Training System Tray Loo

Price: £39.99

Availability: In stock

2 of 47 people found the following review helpful:


Give them an inch…

…and, like all cats, they will take a mile.

I bought this for my cat Richard, who by feline standards is a remarkably quick study. Sure enough he quickly mastered the steps to civilised toilet squatting without any real difficulty and, for a short time it seemed to have revolutionised our household. I no longer had to clear out his very unpleasant litter (and believe me he used to pass some zingers) and he in turn was spared the ignominy of having his nose rubbed in his own effluvium.

The problems only really started a couple of weeks later. You see given that his diet is made up almost entirely of Pepperami sausages, chocolate biscuits and lager, he tends to spend quite a lot of time in there, usually with my newspaper and a packet of cigarettes. When I knock at the door, desperate to use the toilet myself, I am often greeted with an aggressive and often slightly slurred sounding ‘Meow’ that (call me paranoid) I can only suppose is some sort of abusive kitty slang word. Not only that but when he does finally finish up and slinks out of the bathroom eyeballing me resentfully, my newspaper is all shredded around the edges where he has been holding it and the bathroom smells strongly of cat poo and Benson and Hedges.

Tags: feline bastard pain



Radiator Cat Bed

Price: £8.99

Availability: In stock

1.57 of 93 people found the following review helpful:


A cause of great upheaval

After much deliberation I bought the above item for my cat, Richard. I was loath to purchase anything that would make his life easier as he is already making mine a living hell and everything that I buy for him just seems to add to my misery. The toilet training lavatory attachment I bought has turned out to be a nightmare, the scratching board I purchased he used to file off the serial numbers on his Beretta and now this.

Everything seemed fine, he would sit comfortably for hours at a time, sleeping or smoking or cooking up and I would have some blessed peace and quiet for a while. However, when I arrived home from work at the lab one day I found, much to my consternation, that he had re-arranged all the furniture in the living room so that he could now see the TV from his radiator vantage point. It upsets the entire balance of the room! Not only that but he jealously guards the remote and never lets me watch anything that I want to. As if that weren’t enough, he has now moved my computer desk beside the radiator and spends all day on internet gambling websites. He is worth approx £120000 at the time of writing, yet I’m still the one having to buy his kebabs, his vodka and his cigarettes!

I bought Richard as a kitten in the hope that he would grow into a loving and affectionate companion, but I’m starting to think that he might just be a bad egg.


Sharp end Cat Pencil

Price: £7.49

84 of 85 people found the following review helpful:


Be very careful

I bought this cat pencil for my cat Richard, but when I tried to insert it as demonstrated in the diagram he attacked me quite violently. I don’t advise it.


Fever Zip Up Cat Suit Red

Price: £23.99

Availability: In stock

0 of 4754 people found the following review helpful:


Not suitable for Richard

I bought this for my Cat, Richard, thinking that he might look very dapper in his own suit. Not only was it far too big for him, but he almost suffocated under the weight of the stretchy fabric. His little feline face was trying to push through the material, making him look like some sort of demonic monster from a big budget horror film. Finally I managed to extricate him from the suit and, angered by what he saw as an attempt on his life, he proceeded to smash all the windows of my car.

I cannot state this strongly enough, this item is not suitable for cats.


Cosy Pet Fleece cat Blanket -Chocolate

Price: £4.99


Availability: In stock

18 of 12 people found the following review helpful:


Sick

Personally I think this is terrible. Myself and my cat, Richard, don’t always see eye to eye, especially since he brought home those two hookers, but even I would hesitate at the thought of killing him and using his pelt to make a high quality chocolate coloured fleece blanket.



Wild Cats Tattoos (Temporary Tattoos)

Price: £1.51

Availability: In stock

-8 of 100 people found the following review helpful:

Difficult

I bought these temporary ‘Wild Cats Tattoos’ for my cat, Richard. I have given the product an average rating because, while they didn’t show up very well on his fur, the necessary wrestling that I had to engage him in to apply them did actually make him into a pretty wild cat. So wild in fact that he sneaked into the basement during the night and half cut all the weight cables on my multi-gym, leading to an accident that saw me hospitalised for three weeks.

My advice would be to check with your cat before purchasing and make sure that it is something that he/she really wants.

Litter Kwitter Cat Toilet Training System Tray Loo

Litter Kwitter Cat Toilet Training System Tray Loo

Price: £39.99

Availability: In stock

2.0 out of 5 starsGive them an inch…, 26 Jan 2010

…and, like all cats, they will take a mile.

I bought this for my cat Richard, who by feline standards is a remarkably quick study. Sure enough he quickly mastered the steps to civilised toilet squatting without any real difficulty and, for a short time it seemed to have revolutionised our household. I no longer had to clear out his very unpleasant litter (and believe me he used to pass some zingers) and he in turn was spared the ignominy of having his nose rubbed in his own effluvium.

The problems only really started a couple of weeks later. You see given that his diet is made up almost entirely of Pepperami sausages, chocolate biscuits and lager, he tends to spend quite a lot of time in there, usually with my newspaper and a packet of cigarettes. When I knock at the door, desperate to use the toilet myself, I am often greeted with an aggressive and often slightly slurred sounding ‘Meow’ that (call me paranoid) I can only suppose is some sort of abusive kitty slang word. Not only that but when he does finally finish up and slinks out of the bathroom eyeballing me resentfully, my newspaper is all shredded around the edges where he has been holding it and the bathroom smells strongly of cat poo and Benson and Hedges.

I feel that my relationship with my cat is now at an all time low, though he is now 14 in cat years, so perhaps this is just an adolescent phase. The purchase of Litter Kwitter seems to be where it all started however and I couldn’t possibly recommend it for fear that anyone else might suffer the same problems that I did.

Tags: feline bastard pain


Radiator Cat Bed

Radiator Cat Bed

Price: £8.99

Availability: In stock

13 of 17 people found the following review helpful:

2.0 out of 5 starsA cause of great upheaval, 27 Jan 2010

After much deliberation I bought the above item for my cat, Richard. I was loath to purchase anything that would make his life easier as he is already making mine a living hell and everything that I buy for him just seems to add to my misery. The toilet training lavatory attachment I bought has turned out to be a nightmare, the scratching board I purchased he used to file off the serial numbers on his Beretta and now this.

Everything seemed fine, he would sit comfortably for hours at a time, sleeping or smoking or cooking up and I would have some blessed peace and quiet for a while. However, when I arrived home from work at the lab one day I found, much to my consternation, that he had re-arranged all the furniture in the living room so that he could now see the TV from his radiator vantage point. It upsets the entire balance of the room! Not only that but he jealously guards the remote and never lets me watch anything that I want to. As if that weren’t enough, he has now moved my computer desk beside the radiator and spends all day on internet gambling websites. He is worth approx £120000 at the time of writing, yet I’m still the one having to buy his kebabs, his vodka and his cigarettes!

I bought Richard as a kitten in the hope that he would grow into a loving and affectionate companion, but I’m starting to think that he might just be a bad egg.


Sharp end Cat Pencil Sharpener

Sharp end Cat Pencil Sharpener

Price: £7.49

Availability: In stock

1.0 out of 5 starsBe very careful, 27 Jan 2010

I bought this cat pencil for my cat Richard, but when I tried to insert it as demonstrated in the diagram he attacked me quite violently. I don’t advise it.


Fever Zip Up Cat Suit Red

Fever Zip Up Cat Suit Red

Price: £23.99

Availability: In stock

3.0 out of 5 starsNot suitable for Richard, 27 Jan 2010

Durability:3.0 out of 5 stars Fun:2.0 out of 5 stars Educational:1.0 out of 5 stars

I bought this for my Cat, Richard, thinking that he might look very dapper in his own suit. Not only was it far too big for him, but he almost suffocated under the weight of the stretchy fabric. His little feline face was trying to push through the material, making him look like some sort of demonic monster from a big budget horror film. Finally I managed to extricate him from the suit and, angered by what he saw as an attempt on his life, he proceeded to smash all the windows of my car.

I cannot state this strongly enough, this item is not suitable for cats.


Cosy Pet Fleece cat Blanket -Chocolate

Cosy Pet Fleece cat Blanket -Chocolate

Price: £4.99

Availability: In stock

2.0 out of 5 starsInhumane, 27 Jan 2010

Personally I think this is terrible. Myself and my cat, Richard, don’t always see eye to eye, especially since he brought home those two hookers, but even I would hesitate at the thought of killing him and using his pelt to make a high quality chocolate coloured fleece blanket.


Wild Cats Tattoos (Temporary Tattoos)

Wild Cats Tattoos (Temporary Tattoos)

Edition: Accessory

Price: £1.51

Availability: In stock

3.0 out of 5 starsDifficult, 27 Jan 2010

I bought these temporary ‘Wild Cats Tattoos’ for my cat, Richard. I have given the product an average rating because, while they didn’t show up very well on his fur, the necessary wrestling that I had to engage him in to apply them did actually make him into a pretty wild cat. So wild in fact that he sneaked into the basement during the night and half cut all the weight cables on my multi-gym, leading to an accident that saw me hospitalised for three weeks.

My advice would be to check with your cat before purchasing and make sure that it is something that he/she really wants.

When devils will the blackest sins put on

Posted February 26, 2010 by spider34
Categories: comedy, Humour, pet care

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

It never rains but it pours.

Leaving the lab yesterday I had to run an unusually violent gauntlet of extreme animal rights activists just to get to my car. Fortunately, I shouted my boss, Dr Proteus and he was able to distract the crowd while I made my getaway. Relieved that no one had been hurt I made my way home, dreaming of a warm cup of Horlicks and my DVD of ‘Doc Martin’ Series 2.

I love his management technique, I'm learning so much from him.

Clearly I’m going to have to get used to the fact that such creature comforts are a thing of the past. The house was like a landfill when I arrived home and, as Richard wasn’t there, I set about tidying the place up.

Finally, when the place was beginning to seem a bit more livable, I settled down to an evening enjoying the chameleon like acting of Mr Martin Clunes and the superior television writing that I have come to expect from ITV. I had no idea where Richard was and I was avoiding thinking about what he may be up to. For the time being I was happy just to enjoy the peace and quiet. As usual it was short lived.

I fell asleep in the armchair and drifted into a disquieting dream in which Richard was harvesting my organs during the night and selling them to animal rights activists to make environmentally friendly loudhailers. One particularly spotty protester was making a loud horn sound with my pancreas and chanting “DIGEST-IVE AND ENDO-CRINE/PASSING EN-ZYMES TO THE IN-TES-TINE!” . I awoke to find Richard blasting my face with one of those aerosol emergency horns, which I gather he had picked up especially for the purpose.

Very important

I have a sneaking suspicion that this is going to be his way of telling me he wants food from now on.

I don’t know why he can’t just get his food for himself. Perhaps I’m being harsh here, and I would appreciate any other cat owners putting me straight, but this strikes me as pure laziness on his part. He’s already shown that he can operate computers, ATM’s and automobiles quite expertly, so surely dialing for a pizza should not be beyond him. He shuns the cupboard full of Whiskers and assorted cat snacks that I have sitting in the kitchen.

It was only when he turned the lights on to hunt around peevishly for the pizza menu that I realised what it was that was different about him. Where once Richard’s coat had been an indefinable selection of muddy browns, he was now jet black from head to toe. I tried to quiz him on the reasons for his transformation but he responded by simply pointing out the ‘Mighty Meaty’ from the menu, tramping truculently toward the spare bedroom and slamming the door. Moments later I heard ‘Malice Through the Looking Glass’ by Cradle of Filth issuing from within and realised for the first time that he had moved my stereo in there. This is especially annoying as I like to listen to William Shatner’s version of ‘Common People’ as I drift off to sleep each night.

I think we all know who is musically superior here

I’ve looked through all the guides to raising a cat that I can find but I can’t find a single reference to what you should do if your cat becomes a Goth. He’s sullen enough as it is.

Hopefully this is just a phase and he will start acting more like a normal cat soon. I thought owning a cat was supposed to be therapeutic but it’s proving more stressful than my sightseeing tour of Burma last year. Thank you very much Thomas Cook.

Perhaps I will buy him lots of new kitty accessories to cheer him up and make him feel a bit more cat-like.