There is *much* love for the kitten, my friends - *MUCH* love.
And now my brother has waded in on the matter.
Simon, who is occasionally and inexplicably also refered to as Jamal, is not the type of chap who goes all gooey at the sight of a small kitten. He's more likely to call it "flea-bag" or "worm-ass," and maybe even consider popping it under the grill for a late night snack.
But no. I just got the following text message from him:
"Get the kitten - it's SOOO cute."
(Are you ALL conspiring against me?)
Anyway, I suggested that he "get the kitten," and helpfully suggested that he could house it in my former bedroom.
"But's it's Dad's office now," he replied. "What's it going to do - some filing?"
"It can play around on the computer and surf the internet all day," I suggested. "It'll need to know what to do with a mouse at some point."
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4 comments:
Get the kitten. You want the kitten. You really, really, want the kitten. Pat the kitten. Get the kitten.
I was talking about this with my good friend Jack Nicholson; the conversation went something like this:
Jack Nicholson: You want the Kitten?
Sparky: Yes!
Jack Nicholson: You want the Kitten?!
Sparky: YES!
Jack Nicholson: YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE KITTEN!!
I can't handle the kitten. If Jack Nicholson says it, it must be true.
Get the cat.
Train the cat.
Chunty old boy, weren't you going to get a Tiger?
Or a Liger?
I'll definitely get Smudge if you buy a Liger.
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