Thoughts of Chairman Meow

Archive for November, 2015

Blue hat for a blue day

Following rapidly on the heels of Black Friday, we have decided to assign colours to Mother’s week as follows:

Green Monday -oh shit, have I still got to work?? I feel sick…..

Yellow Tuesday – demonstrates how much bile she has for people who upset her

Red Wednesday – following on fromYellow Tuesday. This is where she gets very angry with the people who naffed her off yesterday

Orange Thursday – ‘oh God.  Will this nightmare ever end??’

Blue Friday – ‘I am so depressed….’

Brown Saturday – the only thing which will cure her bad mood is chocolate

Purple Sunday – mourning the loss of another week of her life spent working

I can sing a rainbow…….


All I want for Christmas

Mother has been asked some strange questions in her time, including some difficult ones (how long do you think he’s got to live duck? is a favourite which is ok as long as it’s asked about someone with a terminal disease but a bit off putting if they’re talking about someone you’ve just met in Tesco).

As an extension to this, she was recently asked ‘ do you think he’ll be here at Christmas?’  Mother’s face must have looked a bit perplexed especially when she carried on to say ‘because I’d like to know what he wants for his dinner’. 

Better put them sprouts on now…..


Mother has told me that, yet again, innocent people have been killed in a terrorist attack, this time in France. 

Now, I’m usually a pretty light-hearted kind of cat, but I am finding myself having to be serious for just one minute. Some humans are wicked and abhorrent. What makes you think that blowing people up or shooting them serves any purpose other than to perpetuate hatred? You hurt us, we hurt you. You hate us, we despise you. No religion ever advocated this type of behaviour towards innocents, especially children. If you don’t agree with anything, shoot your mouth off about it, not an AK-47. 

Lecture over

Vive la France ……..🇫🇷

Chock full

So. Now we know what Rolf Harris is doing to while away the hours in Stafford Prison. He is eating all the pies. Or, more accurately, all the Mars Bars. This has resulted in a trip to the Royal Stoke with hyperglycaemia. 

I wonder if anybody had the nerve to shout ‘can you tell what it is yet?’ when he presented with his symptoms…….

No laughing matter

According to yesterday’s paper, a change in your sense of humour may herald the onset of Alzheimer’s. The more warped it becomes, the more likely you are to be developing the disease. We’re talking laughing at natural disasters and grinning when a child falls off it’s bike kinda humour here. 

This explains why Auntie Sandra (God rest her soul), normally the most strait-laced of people, started to laugh at fat people in the street and began to loudly and gregariously criticise the dress sense of people who really needed introducing to a mirror. 

Mother’s sense of humour has always been warped. In fact, I would argue that all nurses are a bit warped. Anybody who can make a joke about death, disease, pestilence, vomit and willies is a bit strange. 

And, on top of that,  the NHS has you running around like a demented fool,  so there may be summat in it……….

Ignorance isn’t bliss

Today, Mother has done her shopping in Tesco Handforth on her way to Manchester. This store presumably attracts the great and the good from Alderley Edge, Wilmslow and other well to do places. 

She has never come across a group of more ignorant people. It’s like they have a ‘to do’ list. Walk backwards into the poor sod behind you -check. Pay no heed to plebs just visiting for the day who want to get past your trolley (which incidentally is crammed with such essentials as prosecco) – check. Fail to place the divider on the check out conveyor – check. Have inane conversations whilst blocking an aisle about, of all things, tinsel – check. Bloody tinsel. Hardly going to bring about world peace is it?

She did see the guy who was runner up in last year’s Bake Off buying his groceries. He managed a smile. 

Although, if he had put a couple of Warburton’s white sliced in his trolley, it would have been a considerable disappointment. 

Much more than a woman in the edge could stand…..

Picture Perfect

In brother-in-law’s free magazine for people who have nothing better to do than go on cruises and worry about their bowels, there is a section on pets. 

It says that, on average:

Pet owners take 260 photos of their pets per year. What rubbish, everyone knows it’s 1200. 

Female pet owners are three times more likely to coo more over a photo of a pet than one of a child. Quite right too, kids are not as cute, make more noise, eat more and if one of them goes on to get pregnant you can’t give the offspring away. 

Half of pet owners are more likely to take photos of their pet than their partner. Again this is how it should be. You never have rows with your pet which may result in a large bill from a solicitor. 

80% of pet owners don’t make provision for their pets if the owner dies first. I am named in the will. Before everyone else. Which is how it should be. 

Am ready for my next close up Mr DeMille……….

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