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ludicrous thing that Jazzy Spazzy does? Oh yes, pucker, relax, pucker, relax.
    five minutes later
    I am full of snogging practice exhaustosity.
    two minutes later
    I hope doing this puckering malarkey is not going to mean I end up looking like Mark Big Gob. I had better not overdo it; no one wants to go out with a whale.
    When was the last time I snogged the Sex God? Also, where is the last letter he wrote to me from Kiwi-a-gogo land?
    one minute later
    Oh, I know, I hid it on the top of my wardrobe in the only snooper-free zone in my so-called room.
    one minute later
    Why would a cat eat a letter? Why? It can’t be hunger. But if you start asking questions about cats, you’d end up with the rest of the loons in the twilight home. Why do they eat spiders, that would be another one. There is not much nutrition in a spider, is there? And also, Angus doesn’t really eat them, he just lets them loll out of the corner of his mouth in a disgusting way.
    two minutes later
    I’ve managed to read bits of the chewed-up letter.And also found my missing fountain pen. Also heavily chewed. Don’t tell me Angus and Gordy are cowriting a book. Cat Tips on How to Really Annoy Your Baldy Owners .
Hide their things and chew them.
If you are soaking wet from the rain, here is a top tip: Leap into your owner’s lap and get nice and dry there.
Sit on walls and just look at them.
    five minutes later
    The only sense I can make from Robbie’s chewed-up letter is, “Tom told me about your excellent dancing to ‘Three Little Boys’…and you are, in the nicest possible way, quite possibly clinically insane.”
    This does not give the impression of sophisticosity that I want.
    8:20 p.m.
    I think I will just play the special CD he recorded for me before he went to Kiwi-a-gogo, to get me back in the mood.
    8:45 p.m.
    I tell you what I will not be doing: I will not belying with my head in his lap whilst he sings “I’m not there” to me. I have just remembered doing that in the park the summer before he went away. And I could see right up his nose. If I had been looking. Which I wasn’t because I had my eyes closed and was nodding my head along in time to the music.
    two minutes later
    I’ve just remembered something else. I had a lurking lurker. Oh brilliant, now I have thought about lurkers, I am almost bound to get one.
    one minute later
    I must not get stressed out, that is the kind of thing that lurkers love.
    I must be calm. Ohm.
    three minutes later
    Ah, my little furry letter-eating pals Angus and his adolescent son Gordy have come to keep me company in bed. That will be nice and soothing having them purring beside me. They seem in a nice sleepy mood for once. So night night, world.
    Sex Kitty signing off.
    ten minutes later
    Fat chance. Other people have pets and I’ve got the furry freak brothers. They’ve done the flattening the bed down, pacing round and round and now they are doing that really really irritating prodding with their paws, kneading me like a dough person.
    I will be a hollow-eyed wraith at this rate if I don’t get some beauty sleep. I must do some inner calming exercises. Ooohhhmmm ohmmmmm.
    Ooooohhhhhmmmyyygod. Mum has slammed into my inner sanctum carrying the spawn of the devil in her nightime nappy and deelyboppers.
    I said, “What? What is it you people want of me???”
    Oh brilliant, Bibbs is being bunged into my bed with me because she won’t go to sleep without me. I said to Mum, “Mum, I am sure there is some European law against this kind of overcrowding. Even in poor people’s land, I bet they don’t have as many people and stuff in bed with them as I do.”
    She just said, “Don’t be silly, Gee, read Bibbsy a little boboland story.”
    Libby had a big book with her that she smashed me in the nose with in a loving way asshe snuggled in, pushing Gordy out of bed. He had just nodded off and crashed to the