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The collected opinions of an august and aristocratic personage who, despite her body having succumbed to the ravages of time, yet retains the keen intellect, mordant wit and utter want of tact for which she was so universally lauded in her younger days. Being of a generation unequal to the mysterious demands of the computing device, Lady Bracknell relies on the good offices of her Editor for assistance with the technological aspects of her journal.

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Location: Bracknell Towers

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Retribution

Kittens who consider clawing the crinkly cellophane from a DVD out of the waste paper basket and playing noisily with it at a quarter to six in the morning to be absolutely tremendous fun should not be surprised to find themselves on the wrong side of the back door as swiftly as their human owner's decrepit frame will permit.

7 Comments:

Blogger Lord Garfunkel of Ballyesmond said...

hear hear old bean. bad kitty.

11:45 am  
Blogger Katie said...

Hmm. So perhaps my suggestion of 'kittens' as an aid to your current condition should be rethought.

11:49 am  
Blogger Lady Bracknell said...

No. His general cheeriness and enthusiasm for being cuddled outweigh his occasional misdemeanour.

11:58 am  
Blogger Charlesdawson said...

It could be worse, had it been raining. Custard came in to tell me that at 5.30 this morning and demonstrated it very effectively by drying off on my bed.

12:48 pm  
Anonymous Boogaloo Zzzzzzzzzz said...

Can current spouses who refuse to stop snoring - despite concurrent AND simultaneous application of every known deterrent - legitimately be dumped on the back step at 4.30 a.m. or is that a privilege reserved only for naughty kitties?

2:10 pm  
Blogger Lady Bracknell said...

Lady Bracknell imagines that would rather depend on how fervently one wished to remain married...

3:32 pm  
Blogger marmiteboy said...

Twiglet is sailing close to the wind at the moment too. He will insist on poking his daddies feet at quarter to six in the morning in an attempt to extracate him from his slumbers so he can then turn his nose up at an early breakfast.

If feet poking doesn't work, and at that time in the morning the Boy Marmite is in no mood for larks, he will then try and push his daddy with his head usually trying to wriggle underneath him for some reason, get inside the duvet cover so he can stick his claws in his daddies legs and if that still doesn't work he will then knock all his daddies meds and anything else he can move, off of the bedroom cabinet. He and Bertie would make a terrible pair.

7:28 pm  

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