the female of the species

simon the stag beetle

the drama for this evening involved my cat florence and every poor unsuspecting little critter in my garden. florence seems to think that our house is not full enough with a mum, a dad, a uni student, a teenage school girl, a siamese cat who thinks he rules the roost and a idiotic kitten who shits herself at any noise or movement. the constant battle to move in half dead garden creatures into our hallway often results in me nearly crying, febi squealing, dad quickly becoming "unavailable" and mum quickly becoming fed up that its her having to deal with the carcass AGAIN.

but this time when florence scuffled through the cat flap with victim number one, crying "ma-o-ral-ral!" (which i believe translates roughly as "i've been a little cunt again") mum and dad were conviniently tucked up in bed, and could not hear me and febi's squeals. so simon the stag beetle latched himself onto a nearby pop sock, which in turn febi swung out the door on the end of a broom whilst we sung "we are sailing" and became a little bit tearful at simons departing. situation sorted. an hour later, "ma-o-ral-ral!". florence decided to try her luck with edith the earth worm.

all this time we thought it was bailey bringing in the "presents". sorry bails. the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

butter wouldn't melt

song for bloggers

love emmie twee