Thoughts of Chairman Meow

Archive for March, 2012

Down the pan

Mother has discovered, from reading Street Cat Bob’s autobiography, that he is able to use the toilet. Mother’s flabber truly was ghasted by this, and now she keeps asking  me when I am going to do the same. She says that proper toilet etiquette involves me perching on the bog seat and doing my stuff. It’s all right for her, her arse wouldn’t disappear without trace if she lost her balance.

It is unclear whether she wishes me to flush the toilet after I have used it. Let me be honest, I am intellectually capable of learning all this stuff but I am not too keen on potentially vanishing into a maelstrom of sewerage so I am keeping schtum…….

Bob has a lot to answer for………..



Wot u thinkin?

Granny is at it again. She asked Mother to get a few things from the shops. When the stuff was delivered, she asked where the coffee was. She never asked for coffee. Mother doesn’t even drink the bloody stuff, why would she even think about buying it? Obviously, it’s time for the Vulcan Mind Meld again…….

Since Granny has been less mobile, Mother has  virtually begged her to make lists ready for when someone goes to the shops for her. She even bought a special notepad to put it on. Granny has plenty of pens. Last time Mother checked, Granny could still write. So, what’s the problem?

It’s because she’s so bloody stubborn. You can tell Granny and Auntie H are cut from the same cloth, except that Auntie is pigheaded about taking pills and Granny is reluctant to make shopping lists. Which one of these will kill you sooner?……

Possibly the lack of adequate purchasing instructions if Granny gets Mother on a bad day……………….

On yer bike

Mother is wondering if the proposed fuel tanker drivers’ strike is a good or bad thing. Without fuel, it would not be possible for her to do her job, however, the crafty buggers in the PCT always make special arrangements to enable district nurses to get about. Rumour is that current arrangements involve a push-bike. Or a good pair of walking boots. Or a pogo-stick………..

One thing Mother has noted is the amount of money that tanker drivers already get. At £45,000 they earn more than Mother does. She can’t have a pay rise this year, why should they? I suppose you could say that driving a tanker of combustible fluid is a teensy bit hazardous, but you should see some of the houses Mother has to go in…….

Of course, Mother has got to keep her final salary pension and tanker drivers haven’t, which I suppose is why they are entitled to be slightly pi**ed off. In four years, 2 months and 3 days she will be retiring, so stick that in your tanker driving pipe and smoke it. Or perhaps not if you don’t want to be blown to smithereens………..

On a positive note, apparently eating chocolate keeps you thin. Something to do with the way it is metabolised. Pass the Mars bar……



The local council is asking people to send in photos if their Granny looks like the Queen. My Granny doesn’t look much like Her Maj, but can fart in time with God Save the Queen. Does this count?………………….

Also, you are apparently more likely to die early if you sit more than 11 hours a day. Granny manages more than this and is still breathing. Aunty H is 89 next month and all she does is sit on her arse. Who writes this rubbish?…………….

Not very tasteful

Mother understands the necessity for raising the profile of bowel cancer symptoms, but why oh why do they have to put that shitty advert on at mealtimes. You’re just getting your chops around a nice big sausage, when somebody says ‘have you got blood in your pooh?’ Mother is used to discussing bodily functions but you don’t want that sort of stuff rammed down your throat at teatime do you?

I still have blood in my pooh, if anybody’s interested…………..

Can’t stand still

Auntie Ju has gone to see Irish dancing in Birmingham this afternoon. She thinks it would be fun to see Michael Flatley try to wrap his feet round his ears. That’s nothing, should see me when I am trying to keep my bottom clean………………

Granny still has more pains than a greenhouse. There would appear to be no Irish dancing in her future. Unless you count the little wobble she does when she gets up too quick…..

Mother has been enjoying the sunshine by pressure washing the path. Now she can no longer walk straight. Good God, I am surrounded by a load of invalids.I, on the other hand, have been asleep on next door’s garage roof. Then I came in and went to sleep on the bed, after partaking of a light lunch. Must be careful not to overdo it tomorrow……………..

Yes, we have no bananas

Auntie has been released from hospital and is now back at home. Peace is shattered.

Mother rang last night to see how she was, and Auntie could be heard shrieking ‘banana’ in the background. Now I’m no expert, but it would seem to me that this is a type of familial Tourette’s syndrome – both Granny and Auntie seem to announce ‘bananas’ at regular intervals. This would appear to be a substitute for telling people to ‘f**k off’.

So, next time you feel like telling someone to go forth and multiply, try shouting ‘bananas’ at them. It’ll be our little secret………………

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