Monday, 21 February 2011

“Hey. Wow. Great balls of yeeaaaahhhh”

Catnip. ‘e’ for cats. Apparently.

I’ve noticed that Smudge, now she’s getting older, is no longer as interested in catnip as she used to be. She’ll stick her head in the tub of dried catnip, give it a sniff, think, ‘that was nice’ and then go off to sleep on her bean bag. Gizmo, on the other hand, is still young enough to be a total niphead. He can hear the box of catnip toys being opened from a hundred yards away. And then he’ll spend the next two hours dancing to deep-garage-trance-crunk-hardcore-portico-grimestep-house music until he runs out of energy and has an attack of the munchies.

I’m not one for drugs myself. Never taken them, never been tempted. I don’t like needles, I don’t smoke and I’ve never been able to swallow pills. Even if I was tempted I’d be crap at it.

Besides, having always been the boring one who never took drugs at parties, I can reliably report that if you think I’m boring, try being on the receiving end of the tedious piffle people come up with when they’re off their little nut on dippy substances.

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