These are truly momentous days - at least, that is to say, for human beings in the lovely Kingdom of Northumbria. It is truly said that a cat can look at a king; this Cat is looking at this kingdom with horror, disbelief and biscuit. It is a realm that has been caught in the grip of turbulence, petulance and flatulence.
As I do my daily rounds through my own territory and inspect its furthest boundaries, I can't help but observe the scene laid out before me. I see a realm caught up in the throes of self-destruction following that Fatal Event which overturned everything that had hitherto been comfortable and familiar to the members of the human population.And now I see (and smell) the heaps of corpses by the roadside and small clusters of the walking wounded, propping each other up like bookends and staggering their weary and painful way to Heaven knows where. There are legions of carrion crows taking gleeful advantage of the stinking feast set before them. There isolated individuals wandering about, shaking their heads in disbelief.