Imagine you had the biggest, fluffiest cat in the world.

[Burney]

Imagine that cat suffered un crise d'estomac which resulted in the poor creature's rear end being almost entirely soaked in liquid shíte, with many interesting soft lumps also embedded in the fur.

Now picture such a creature going about his morning duties, hopping from kitchen worktop to kitchen table, from floor to sofa, chair, windowsill and so forth.

The sight that greeted me when I entered my house at lunchtime was indescribable.

Have you ever tried washing a shít-soaked cat in a bucket? :shudder:

I wish I were dead.

is the poor wee chap OK?

[Sir C]

is the poor wee chap OK?

He's awfully upset about being washed. I've had to throw my clothes away, so ingrained with shít and blood were they. (My blood, naturally.)

[Herbert Augustus Chapman]

is the poor wee chap OK?

Sir C comes on bemoaning his cat for squirting faeces everywhere just doesn't ring true.

I very much doubt the "poor wee chap" is OK because the fur covered little snake has probably been slung into the wood-chipper by an enraged Sir C and quite right too.

And furthermore, a fireman friend of mine tells me an estimated forty pet cats died in the Grenfell fire and I haven't heard you, or the other great cat lover, evince a shred of sympathy. Cat lovers my fat white cat hating arse .