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Ben Morgan


"the short column with brief gems"

This week....


I wonder if it has come to the attention of the reader that cats are over represented on the Net, a point I raised in the last driftwood. It is most odd that so many Web pages contain full and frank details of the user's cat. The ruthless svengali, Dave Pearce, who runs this very site, is as usual a man to buck this trend. Mr. Pearce, driven by the philosophical virtues of the Hedonistic Imperative, has labelled all of the feline species as 'nazis'. Yes, cats are mass murders, the evil scum of the animal world. Dave is much more a koala and seal man himself.

However, I have made it my duty for the good of this column to engage with the feline fiends. To be quite honest, the cat with whom I share a house is far from the evil-incarnate of the Pearce school of thought. Unless, that is, there is some thing inherently bad with eating, sleeping and poo-ing. Chunky the Cat besides this life of simplicity, only has to suffer me coming home and complaining loudly to him about what a terrible day I've had. That is the great thing about cat, they sit there sagely looking at you as you burble about the chaos of your world, your romantic disappointments, and they still love you when you've finished. Cats, therefore, are cheaper, nicer, friendlier and better in every way than therapists. No wonder it has been found that cats in various old peoples homes and hospital wards help those living within them to be generally happier. A challenge perhaps to the Hedonistic Imperatives downer on cats.

Yet, I feel something more. Although cats are some times stupid, for example, their failure to learn the Green Cross code, they always appear to be plotting some thing. One evening on return from the local hostelry, it struck me that the reason for this is that cats, in fact, are controlling the world. Just after you've poured your heart out to them about work/love life/exploding kettles etc, they note this down, communicate this to other cats, and then, on a feline whim, engineer the next wonder or disaster in your life. Yes, you see it all makes sense now doesn't it? This would explain why, on my return from nefarious places late at night, who should be waiting to greet me on the doorstep but dear old Chunky.

Perhaps the only other creature I could possibly believe to have any omnipotent power over my life is the elk. As you probably know dear reader, Brighton is famous for it colony of wild elk, the last in southern Britain. The Whitehawk Elk Reserve is a wonderfully tranquil and serene place where the Elk wander free. A delight. A true delight. Well worth visiting Brighton to behold. More of the dear city next week.

Good-bye my children.

BM Random Driftwood:

Ben Morgan
The Claws of Death
Whatever Happened to Mutley?

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