Friday 4 October 2013

Complaint of the Cat

Ever since I was elected Beloved Leader and Guiding Light of the Feline Redistributionist Faction (Jobs for the Faithful, Magic Mushrooms and Equal Rights for all like-minded Cats), I've been more than aware that there have been significant forces working tirelessly against me since I donned the mantle of high office. This is most upsetting, since all a Cat want to do is to carry out his public business to the best of his ability and obtain a few Holy Groats on the side - what on earth is wrong with that, for goodness' sake?

A number of soothsayers have particularly had it in for me - particularly those whose ideology aligns itself with those depraved Tree Faction types, who make me singularly sick. Things have got to a pretty pass recently when one of the soothsayers - none other than the ranting and hysterical Dellimell - published scurrilous information about my late father (blessings and mice be around him). Now of course, he's no longer around to defend the honour of his name, but I can certainly vouch for him as a cherished son and heir.

While it must be said that he did have rather eccentric views about the world, feline society and the redistribution of fish and mice to the common cat (i.e. any active Redistributionist Faction member), his extreme world view - contrary to the poisoned narrative of the obnoxious Dellimell et alia - made no room for violent struggle with claws and teeth in order to achieve universal poverty and biscuit. I know for a fact (for I studied his mannerisms very closely) that he never bared his teeth in anger to tear off the ear of another cat. And he certainly never was known to use the natural sharpness of his claws - and I have the scars to prove it.

Furthermore, I refute the allegation that my dear old father hated the lovely Kingdom of Northumbria, King Alhfrith, the feudal system, the Christian Church and the costumed thugs. He was more than happy to affectionately adopt the Kingdom which welcomed him as a stray, put fish in his bowl and gave him the abundant leisure and thence the opportunity to develop his formidable intellect. He simply didn't like them - in fact, he loathed them.  And, contrary to popular belief, he didn't redistribute thousands of Holy Groats into his own personal hoard. My own considerable wealth has derived from other quarters, and I'm not prepared to discuss that matter any further, as it's none of anybody else's business.

So therefore I'm determined to destroy those soothsayers who gainsay me and oppose my political position, and I'm prepared to grind their bones to powder. My late father taught me a great deal...


  1. Furthermore, I refute the allegation that my dear old father hated the lovely Kingdom of Northumbria

    His name was not Miliband then.

  2. If he liked Deira & Bernicia, perhaps he liked listening to the scops & gleemen, Lindisfarne.