Well folks, I suppose I’ve had a good run. I’ve had a good innings, a fairly good munch of the free Chinese buffet without keeling over with MSG poisoning and a more than adequate go at draining life’s top shelf spirits whilst its barman was talkinto the attractive blonde with the monolithic cleavage. Perhaps I’m being too melodramatic, too pessimistic and making one and one equal seventeen Parakeets and packet of donkeys. I have no other way of looking at things as though my life has finally turned that corner from which there is absolutely no return.
Don’t worry for me, don’t pine for me and certainly don’t start divvying up my CD (remember them kids?) collection or the topshelf “niche” magazine collection my Uncle donated to me when he moved house. I’m not gone just yet and I might need some of those things still. That said, you can most certainly have the jumbled and appaling assortment of novelty books, painful sweaters and “novelty and humourous” t-shirts received from people who have apparently known me over the years and I have been too lazy to take to the tip or Chairty Shops. I’m not sure even the most desperate or poverty stricken would want most of what is in that locked and battered red Hello Kitty suitcase in the darkest recesses of the loft.
So, i can sense you moistly asking yourself and your screen, why the pre-eulogising laced with awful self-pity? The reason is really quite . Don’t judge or pity too harshly, for I know I am not alone in what I do. I know for a fact that millions across the globe do exactly the same as me, it’s just that I always thought I was better than them, superior in fact. For example, I have never worn a mauve sweatshirt emblazoned with a myriad of Disney characters. But now, for the reasons I shall explain, I am no longer convinced that this can be entirely out of my question.
You see, I have now started to talk to my cat like he is an actual person. I ask him questions about his day, I ask him questions about how he is feeling and worst of all, I have started to counsel for his opinion on a range of subjects from what I shall have for my tea, the worrying rise of the UKIP political party across Britain (for those of you not familiar with these people, they are your most obnoxiously right-wing relative or family friend you are forced to talk to, pretending to be a real human being whilst playing at politics. They also use terms like Bongo-Bongo land whilst referencing Africa. get the picture?) to the plight of the size of women’s arses on the train. He does however, as I am sure you can imagine, have no opinion on the size of the buttocks of my fellow commuters or anything else for that matter. He is a cat and therefore has no opinion on anything other than revolting looking food.