Due to circumstances beyond our control, there will be no entry in the diary today.

“Are you done yet?”

(Picture yourself a cat miming Queen’s We are the champions)

It started with posters – and it progressed with flyers. The message being:

Have you seen this cat?

In fact, it started in the car park of our local supermarket, in the early hours of a mundane Monday morn.

In the deepest secrecy a meeting was planned. We’re not talking an other international and ever-so-helpful conference about Iraq, nothing as easily concocted as an IRA or ETA meet would have been in de eighties – in fact, the whole thing was more complicated than explaining the rules of cricket to a gathering of mentally challenged & visually impaired gibbons.

We’re talking hush hush with a bloody vengeance – but it was done. A time and a place had been set.

“Will you just stop it?! I swear; you’re about as much use as a fat man in a crematorium

(The cat dancing to the Rocky lll soundtrack, I’m afraid.)

‘We’ had promised not to shoot at them and keep things quiet. ‘They’ … Well, to use that stupid, well-worn but never really put to much use cliché: they came in peace.

Ah yes: they’d also sent some proof that on their arrival they would sort out some stuff for us – small matters as cold fusion, world peace, an end to hunger and most of human illnesses.

So, to avoid the world’s press and the world’s various other imbeciles, irritants and malcontents, the first meeting would take place while the early bird still had its curlers in, in the fore-mentioned car park.

They came, they landed, their cute little green leader started on a, no doubt, cute little green speech, when that bloody cat of mine appeared and abducted and then, as its personal you’re-ever-so-welcome message, dismembered the cute little green fellow right on the bonnet of a brightly red Mazda – in full view of the security camera, alas.

Have you seen this cat indeed…

“Will you stop that…??!!”

(The cat doing one of its Darth Vader imitations.)

So, nothing from me today. As they say: gotta run.

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