Bah Humbug! It's December, again - 3 more days to go

A Christmas Cracker Joke

What is fluffy, has four paws, a tail, whiskers and is embroiled in politics?

A Mayoranchian Catidate for the city of Barnaul in Russia

(note the cringe-worthy, newly created words of mayorial and manchurian and cat and candidate).

There is more about Barsik the cat on the BBC, who actually interviewed him! If you have ever tried interviewing a cat, or getting one to star in a film, you will know that the cat has absolutely no interest in co-operating. In fact, cats were made to disobey. That might make for an interesting term of office for the city of Barnaul if the cat is elected. 

The purpose of electing a cat is to remove the inevitable corruption that seems to surround so many political offices - maybe it always did, and our media and social media simply highlight it so that more of us are aware, or turn a blind eye.

The question does arise, however, as to whether one might be able to bribe a cat? I have noticed that whoever feeds the cats for a couple of days finds themselves in a position of great favour with the cat. So, weighing the evidence, one might deduce that a cat could be bribed. Although what favours it might bestow in exchange, might be rather dubious. Land would be out of the question, cats are too territorial. Maybe a juicy mouse or rat, after the cat has tired of it, but then cats normally bring you mice or rats as gifts. Or maybe you just might be lucky and the cat might leave you a fur ball to step on as you leap out of bed in the morning.

Talking of mornings, this morning, my cat, who narrowly resembles Barsik, perhaps he is his cousin, in white socks and gloves, woke me up with the farmers. Sadly, there are no cows close by to milk, the chickens that live up the road, have gone silent, maybe they were Sunday lunch, and in spite of valiant attempts at growing herbs and tomatoes in my tropical garden, I have failed. So, not really what I want - to be woken with the farmers. 

The cat, Titus as he has aptly called himself, believes that he rules the roost, and just about everything else, and anyone else. No wonder he has earned the name: Titus the cheeky cat.

So, after getting me up at an ungodly hour, when the air was so dark outside, not even the insects were making a noise, he then sat on the wall and sneered at me as I sipped an espresso, trying desperately to wake up.

This saga of cats has nothing to do with Christmas, other than the fact that I shall not be purchasing gifts for the cats this year.

Not very cute at all.

DOWN THE CHIMNEY ©

Another boot, as black as soot,

Had fallen from his foot,

Followed next by Santa Claus,

And my brother’s loud applause.

‘Oh, Mum, oh, Dad, he’s really here!’

I said with Christmas cheer.

‘Just, look his sack’s stuffed full of stuff,’

Then Dad said, ‘That’s enough!’

You can read/watch more about Barsik the cat here:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p03cqssh

http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-35110859