The Diary of Mr Kain: Week #9

Posted on the 01 December 2014 by Donnambr @_mrs_b

Monday

Beard Face woke up feeling unwell today. He kept clutching his stomach and complaining about feeling queasy. Apparently it started in the early hours of the morning and refused to subside. I suspect he went to the loo in the middle of the night, caught sight of himself in the mirror, assumed it was a banshee and has been left on edge all day. I’d like to be sympathetic but I’m too interested in laughing to care.

Tuesday

Beard Face went into town to meet Frizzy Hair today and came home singing a song by Travis entitled Why Does It Always Rain On Me? Charlie heard this and decided to invite Beard Face to film an alternative music video. Rather than running around fields in a kilt, Charlie had the old boy wearing a pair of purple spandex leggings and being chased by three tanks, two Lancaster bombers and Adrian Chiles who used to be on TV but isn’t as much these days. I think it’s because he looks like a goblin. It was a strange spectacle as you can probably imagine and Beard Face’s inability to mime to the song’s words somewhat dented its impact.  

I wish this was Beard Face, only the raindrops were spears hurled by a merciful god.

Wednesday

Beard Face and Frizzy Hair had a visitor today. It’s become a regular thing on a Wednesday. The rest of us aren’t allowed to see this visitor. We’re shut away upstairs. This visitor is of the canine persuasion so we’re talking not very bright but extremely loyal to humans. Frizzy Hair will say that they are dog sitting but I just think she’s helping Beard Face by having him spend time with someone of the same mental capacity.

Thursday

Beard Face and Frizzy Hair didn’t watch The Apprentice until today. Strange people that they are. This week the candidates were selling items out in the countryside, everything from flat cap handbags to hot tubs. You couldn’t make this shit up. The usual petty squabbling was there but thankfully Lord Sugar saw sense and got rid of an arrogant and very gobby project manager. He’s had so many close calls in the past that it’s a wonder they haven’t tested him to see whether he is really a cat. I haven’t heard of a cat that dries its armpits with a hair dryer but there’s a first time for everything.

Friday

It’s been really misty lately. In fact it’s been so bad that I have been unable to stray too far from the house just in case I struggled to find my way back. Don’t get me wrong, being away from Beard Face would be great but Frizzy Hair and the other cats are okay and I do get fed back at the house. I’ve been hoping that whenever Beard Face has been out of the house that he’ll get lost in the mist, take a wrong turn and end up somewhere around the North Pole. I realize the logistics of such an occurrence are against me here but one must have their dreams, no matter how far out of reach.

Saturday

It was a day of celebration today. Frizzy Hair completed NaNoWriMo with a day to spare. Yep, 50,000 words she has written in the last 29 days and not one of them had anything to do with her moronic husband. Instead the old girl has soldiered on and developed multiple projects rather than taking the easy option of writing a list of reasons why Beard Face is the most pathetic and inept human ever to walk the face of the earth. Such a list in its entirety would equate to 2,000,000 words, and that would just be the introductory segment and thanks to all the people who had contributed to the work.

Sunday

I didn’t sleep very well the previous night. A group of Barnsley fans were in fine voice as they headed home though their slurring and staggering was testament to the high level of inebriation in which they had reached. What puzzled me slightly was that Barnsley had lost their game yet these men were singing as if they had tasted a victory finer than Agincourt, Trafalgar or what’s his name’s victory on Pop Idol back in the day. From what I hear of Beard Face and Frizzy Hair, I suspect the Barnsley folk are a tad wimpy when it comes to the old alco of hol. Thankfully my owners don’t get rat arsed, well, not very often.

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