Bobbin 1991-2006

Bobbin 1991-2006

Well, when I say the news, I of course mean the Daily Mirror. All of these stories are in today’s Mirror:

“Cat Rosie survives cruel airgun attack”.

“Three teens arrested on deer death”.

“Grandma is savaged by angry gulls”.

“Rider hurt in horse horror”.

“Mahmoud Ahmadinejad buys puppy to show World he is an ok guy.”

Watch it, mum!”– A clumsy duck steps on one of her own ducklings.

Ok, one of them I made up, but five animal stories in one day? What’s going on?

Four of them cancel each other out; terrible abuses by humans on animals (cat and deer)- animals then fight back (horse and gulls). Now this may not be much comfort to Delphine Mutch (yes, that’s Delphine Mutch, Mrs. Mutch, who was attacked by the nesters in Weymouth) but let’s take a Gaia-ian approach to these stories. (No, I haven’t a clue what I’m on about, but what goes around comes around blah blah blah- one day a dog’ll flush a kid down a toilet, that kind of thing).

The odd one out is the duck on duck attack. Thankfully it was an accident. The mother duck was ushering her ducklings away from a swan when she squashed one under her foot. When ducks turn on each other for no apparent reason, that’s when we should worry.

Coming back briefly to the puppy in the pipe story. That was yesterday but it’s still a big deal. Do you know of this tale? A four year old boy flushes his puppy down the loo. Before I carry on, know this; the puppy’s fine. See the amazing rescue attempt here. It made me cry.

Anyways, the four year old said he wanted to wash his puppy. Hmmm. Obviously he should have asked his parents first. They may have suggested a bowl or the sink or the bath (if the puppy even needed washing at all). But he didn’t and instead chose to wash his puppy in the place where he’s just been taught to wee and poo. Would you? Poor little four year old. I suspect he put his puppy in the toilet and flushed it just for fun, to see what happens. That’s what we do when we haven’t quite grasped consequence. And then… then… then… when he realised, when he saw the puppy sucked down the u-bend, wagging his little tail goodbye … then… when the puppy doesn’t come back… then… Oh dear, I bet something kicked in. Then I bet the little fella ran to mummy screaming and crying.

Poor boy. Poor puppy. But all good in the end. Well done, DynoRod Man. And well done for doing it for free.  (Obviously you get all the publicity and so on, but regardless, well done!)

the guardian‘s jumped on the animal bandwagon too. They’re saying cats are daft. Or rather scientists are. You can find out the science here.

Well, that’s not news! Anyone with cats knows they’re daft animals, dafter than dogs. My two cats, (the much missed Bobbin pictured above and his sister Tess- still going strong at the age of 19- that 457 in human years), are and were remarkably stupid. Those who know Tess may object (and quite likely will) but…

Oh, then alright, I acquiesce. Tess is lovely. She’s deaf now. Or just plain rude. She never comes when called, doesn’t look up when you enter a room, and spends all of her day sleeping. Ok, she’s clever.

Tess, Bobbin's sister. 19 now.

Tess, Bobbin's sister. 19 now.

Sydenham Sunday

May 11, 2009

sydenham may 2009 028 (2)

I’ve been catsitting this weekend. In Sydenham. looking after a little cat fellow called Chomsky. As I type he has just eaten a wasp. I hope that’s alright. For Chomsky. Not the wasp. Too late for the wasp. Wasps get a raw deal. We might not like bees, but we put up with them. They make us honey and if they sting us they then do the decent thing and go and die. Wasps make nothing and sting and sting again. So well done Chomsky, I hope you are ok and unstung. (Just checked on him in the garden and he seems fine).

Sunday in Sydenham was a lovely day. And so I did the obvious thing. I went and sat in two glums pubs and watched Manchester United play Manchester City. I’d have been better off eating wasps.

I had a pint in the first pub, for the first half of the game. I don’t think I was very welcome there. Everyone seemed to be on United’s side. And they were all very serious hairless tattooed men. I sat while they all stood and watched the game, arching backwards like ballet dancers. And old man wandered from table to table with two full carrier bags. He was selling meat. One of the hairless tattooese kept chanting “Been shoppin’ ‘ave ya? Been shoppin’ ‘ave ya?” Although I understood the question I didn’t understand what it meant. I wasn’t offered any meat.

At half time I went to the bar for a second pint and some of the lovely food on display. Everyone at the bar had a plate with some bread on it, and ham, and pickles. That’d do me. I wasn’t sure what I was asking for as there was no menu, so, trying to be polite I said “do you do any food?” The tattooed barman said “no.”

In my second pub, for the second half, I had a roast lamb dinner. It wasn’t too good, but when asked I said it was excellent. I was just glad to be somewhere where people were friendly. My roast dinner was served on a black square plate. Have you ever had a roast potato that’s kind of like a stress ball? I have now.

Manchester United v Manchester City, in a pub in Sydenham, watching it on a Greek sports channel. A caption kept scrolling across the screen; this channel is only licensed to be viewed in Greece. The Greek commentary was turned down and old classics played in the distance; Nat King Cole singing Mona Lisa. I felt like I was on holiday.

And I was sitting by another Manchester City fan. He said hello. This was a friendly pub. We talked about the match and I pretended I knew about football. I just about got by. we talked of Colin Bell and Franny Lee. Then we jumped 30 odd years to talk of Robinho and Richard Dunne. Thank Dennis Tueart’s overhead kick in the 1976 League Cup Final that he didn’t ask me about all the years inbetween. By the end of the match he’d bought me a pint. Cheers sir!

Four pints later I strolled into the Sydenham sun. City lost.

The cats and dogs in Broadstairs lead very different lives. The cats do as they please, coming and going; giving strangers like me dirty looks. The dogs don’t have this freedom. When you see them on the streets they are often on the ends of leads, tethered to a human who controls their movements. If they were to go out on their own they’d find themselves severely curtailed (which for a dog can be distressing). They can’t go on the beach throughout the summer. This seems a raw deal. Sure, they get the place to themselves from September until the end of April, but that’s when it tends to be cold and sunless. I guess the cats can go on the beach when they like. Cats though, being contrary animals, are rarely seen on beaches.

The absurdity behind all this is that Thanet District Council thinks dogs can read.



On Thursday I did my second podcast with Trev. We rambled on and on about all sorts of nonsense; I’m barely aware of what I say until I listen to it back. Still, it’s out there now along with all my dirty laundry, which I somehow or other managed to discuss. What happened to all those snappy satirical comments I had lined up? Oh, that’s right, I had none.

After having written on our Trev and Simon blog I am out of writing for here. Here’s some pics. Andrea, our producer and third part of our act (maybe she’s the And’ in Trev And Simon). A cat who visited; friendly, lives downstairs, but really just wants food. This cat spent a lot of time sniffing Andrea’s fridge. And Trev looking menacing with a pointy knife. You can find Trev and Simon Podcast No.2 here.




Now I’ve got heartaches by the number,
Troubles by the score
Ev’ryday you love me less,
Each day I love you more
Yes, I’ve got heartaches by the number,
A love that I can’t win
But the day that I stop counting,
That’s the day my world will end

So sings Waylon Jennings and Buck Owens and Dwight Yoakam. The song is by Harlan Howard. And the cat? He’s not sung it, but he’s here to help all our  stress levels. That’s what cats do. Obviously not tigers and wild cats. Nice domestic cats like this one that visited Andrea’s yesterday as we recorded Trev and Simon Podcast No.2. And ok, if you hate cats it might not work. Try a dog.

The other day I went for an asthma check up. Things were ok but the nurse said my blood pressure was a bit high. And, I’d forgotten, or just not taken any notice, that it was a little high last year. These are all just numbers to me; I don’t know what it all means. I ask and she says I’m on the verge of hyper-tension. I don’t really know what that means either, but I’ll happily write nonsense about it on my blog. I’ve got to go back in a month and now I’m playing a numbers game. I’m going to get them down.

I was 144/80… something like that. So straight away I went for a run; my first in years; it nearly killed me. Also, I’ve eaten healthily since. Sorry nice cafe man who makes me those marvellous fry-ups; I’m going to have to cut down to just weekdays. Ok, let’s say once a fortnight. Now I just eat fish and wild berries and nuts and bark and soot and soil. And beetles. And I only drink beer water.

My new regime must be working. I’ve just bought myself a monitor for £12.99. The chemist had one at £12.99 and one at £55. I asked him what the difference was. He said none, just the brand name, and he recommended the cheaper one to me. Well done Chemist!

So now it is 140/77. Getting there. And then a little later it was 122/72. At this rate I’ll soon be 0/0.

Tess likes Haruki Murakami

February 10, 2009



but tires easily these days.

Alien Cats on a Roof

November 22, 2008


Today I have mostly been decorating. And soon I will visit friends, whose triplets are three today. Happy Birthday! So, not much time to write and not much to write about.

Last night, my mum went to see John Shuttleworth. She told me she loved it and that some of his fans turned up with pigeons on sticks.

Here’s two cats who could be aliens. Or could it be these two?

bulldogedit21In a move that might shock those that know me, I today become a la-di-da male beauty journalist, writing about these products for And I think I got away with it. Ha! You can read my male grooming wisdom here. is a “daily eco glossy magazine devoted to the most stylish ethical fashion, beauty and home styles”. And it was founded by, and is edited by, my very good friend Sarah. Sarah looks after my cat Tess for me. I can’t have a cat where I live now. Prison.

Go and look at the site. It’s excellent. And it’s a 100% wind powered. Well done Sarah, how do you manage that? I hope Tess isn’t involved.

Two more from the same series, and I apologise to those who are upset by the second picture, but this is Mummified Fox. In the midst of life we are in death etcetera.

cat-fight mouse-and-fly

Mucky Mouse was found right outside my dwelling. The two cats live just a little further up the road. I don’t know if the cats are related, or if they live in the same house. And if I meet one of them in the street and stop for a chat I don’t know if I’m talking to the one on the left or the right. In the street, they are happy to talk, and seem to like a bit of attention. But if they are outside the house when I come across them, they run a mile. Or could it be that one runs and one stays, and I just don’t know which is which. It’s possible that one of these cats killed the mouse. It’s also possible that they then brought it to me as a gift. The fly is just a bystander. Or a mouse-sitter. I like the cats. And I would have liked the mouse. The fly, through no fault of its own, stirs no feelings in me.

willow12 I’ve just posted this off to the Willow Foundation. So, give it a few days and then you’ll be able to see it here along with original art works by Matt Damon, Sir Richard Attenborough and ahem, the Cheeky Girls. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Cheeky Girls’ artwork is of their arses. Please look at the site and prepare your bids for when the auction starts on the 27th November. Apart from the ridiculous; my cats and the Cheeky Girls’ cheeks; there’s some great pieces there, my favourites being the works of Craig Cash, Ricky Hatton and John Hurt. Oh, and if you like the Cheeky Girls’ arses, why not complement them with Trinny and Susannah’s offerings; artwork of their tits. I look forward to seeing what Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand may offer.

I’m no artist, and barely a celebrity, but I’m happy to do my bit for the foundation. The Willow Foundation was founded by Bob and Megs Wilson in 1999, in memory of their daughter, Anna, who died of cancer at the age of 31. Willow was Anna’s nickname. The aim of the foundation is to provide special days for young adults living with life-threatening conditions; from escaping the pressures of their daily routines to sharing quality time with family and/or friends. So, if you can, get involved.

Bob may not remember this, but years ago, last century, I worked with him. For all of two minutes.goingwilson2
That’s me on the left, Bob in the middle, and Trev Neal on the right. It was for a BBC1 programme called “Going Live!” Me and Trev would do daft sketches and get the guests involved. All I can really remember of this was that we had to walk over to a competition area and as we did so, we said to Bob, “walk this way.” And then we made him copy us and do a silly walk. That’s how comedy worked in the 80’s. None of this phoning up grandpas’ stuff. The nearest we ever got to being banned from the BBC was for making an anti-Thatcher comment live on air on childrens’ tv. Still, if we hadn’t made that comment, who knows, John McCain might be president now. So, we did our bit.

willow-back1 Here’s the back of my piece of “art”. There’s a dog. He can’t see the cats, but he senses something may be up, so he gives a bark. The Boxing Cat is crazy and mean and likes to punch the lights out of the other cats, but look at those long whiskers that wrap around the picture. Oh, the Boxing Cat often trips up over them, and consequently, a hit always misses. And with humans? There is no anger. Stroke the Boxing Cat and she purrs.

Behind the sticks are little messages. All but one should be removed. Remove the fourth and the whole picture world will be thrown into chaos. I can’t say why. If you really want to know, please bid for the picture and raise money for the Willow Foundation.