I've got a burning desire to write something...profound. Shame I haven't got any source material, so light bullshit it is. And I do mean that literally; read on, dear reader.
I have a beef with Tabitha, Kitten-in-Chief of Mischief, Mayhem and Pooing in the Bathtub.
You may have guessed what the beef is, by now. Scene: A's bathroom, 6.20am. Our shower is a head over an old, shallow enamel bathtub, with various chips and cracks. It has a white rayon shower curtain that is looking a little tatty in places, as I throw it through the washing machine on a semi-regular basis. I am merrily showering away, when I see the outline of a little furry body on the edge of the bath through the curtain. How cute! says I. Tab or Timothy has come to visit while I'm in the bathroom. They must love me! says I.
I turned the shower off, opened the curtain. Tabitha immediately leaps into the tub. Brave kitty, says I. Timmy jumped in recently and freaked when he discovered the tub was wet. Timmy required saving. Tab immediately puts her nose to the base, gives it a lick, squats and hey presto! poohs in the bottom.
She looked at me like 'yeah? and?'
And that is how, dripping wet and clad only in a towel, I found myself handling faeces before breakfast.
GLAMOROUS.
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