Where do I begin?
The world seems to be going to hell in a cat basket, but only if you watch the BBC. There are few people being ‘suicided’ at present as the government battens down the hatches and tries to keep the lid on its paedophile activities.
Still, you don’t want to hear too much of that stuff do you?
Had a brilliant 11 days in a [new] local cattery [Chapel Cottage Cattery, Mahon, near Malvern], run by real cat lovers. Did very little, but had several soft chairs and boxes to lie on, and the food! Have to write a review on Cat Advisor.
But back to your world. This piece is being monitored as I type by the Nuremburg Sociopathic Alliance. But I’ve done nothing wrong, so I’ve nothing to hide. And don’t you want to be kept safe? I mean, what’s the problem with every phone call, e-mail and web site you visit being monitored? Don’t you want to be sold stuff you need, reduce your life expectancy and get ill? Aren’t you due a trip to the doctor for your pills? You see, in that one sentence I’ve made you realise you do want to be ill, will enjoy the side effects of your ‘medication’, and will lessen the burden on the state when you keel over!
Good God, I’m a bit macabre today…
And now I know why. Isn’t Halloween due? Talking of witch, isn’t that nice phone tapper Rebekah Brooks due for a mild rebuke very soon? And she is being defended by her horse loving mate Cameron’s brother. So, given she is bound to get off-‘they’ don’t want anything iffy about the Royal Family etc. coming out in court do they, and Murdoch is untouchable-Cameron’s brother could be an absolute a*** and still win the case.
[Hears a shout across the room] “Jimmy can’t you write anything upbeat?”
Of course I can, but do you ever find yourselves thinking bad, depressing and downright crap thoughts? Are they your thoughts?
Malvern is a dog friendly place. If you walk in the hills, you can take your dog with you. But not your cat. Why don’t pubs have facilities for cats? This place inspired-and don’t take my word for it, come here and find out-Tolkien, CS Lewis and WH Auden. And of course, Diana’s favourite composer, Elgar. And a person near to the heart of my male keeper, Byron.
You can wander for hours without hearing a mobile phone ring, or mobile phone conversations about vacuous, mind-numbing nonsense. You can see sheep grazing on the hills. All colours of leaves in autumn, and the most amazing views. Or so I’m told.
I’m sure there is a ‘napp’ which cats could use to transport themselves, carefree on to the top of British Camp [a 2000+ year old fort]. And once there, we could become inspired to write fairy tales about lion-hearted cats, taking on the evil empire and winning, helping return Earth to paradise.
‘Lord of the Claws’ would cut it. Imagine the scene. In the distance lies the land of Mur-der, controlled by Saxe-Tuborg-Gothic, the evil priestess, who masquerades as a benign old woman, ‘above politics’, coming out only occasionally to claim benefits to heat the Castle of Doom. Her henchmen successfully brainwash the population of Mur-der to slowly kill themselves with bad diets, poisoned water, and chemical-infused air, whilst watching ‘talent’ shows which distract them from their servitude. The most popular TV show is ‘Prison Without Bars’ in which viewers pledge more and more money to make themselves even safer from the terrifying, insidious but invisible threat from the Claw Fellowship, a band of ‘rogue’ cats who know the truth. The winners are the donors who make the biggest sacrifice, i.e. making themselves homeless or selling organs or body parts.
Saxe-Tuborg-Gothic’s [STG] zombies have convinced the people that their lives could not be bettered, and who would argue?
Well, members of the Claw Fellowship of course!
Fearless renegades, who sneak at night into the homes of STG zombies, raiding their cupboards, clearing out GMO foods, flushing statins and psychotropic drugs down the toilet, leaving bottles of pure water in place of gut-rotting soda or fluoridised milk. They steal their mobile phones, disable their TV’s and remove them from the electoral roll.
The Claw Fellowship has no obvious leader, for in the words of their hero, JRR Tolkien:
"My political opinions lean more and more to anarchy. The most improper job of any man, even saints, is bossing other men …”
To be continued ...
Jimmy, Halloween 2013 imminent