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Fucking Hell! I get complained at for not giving my cat a varied enough diet cos I think fish stinks and is so very, very wrong and dirty. So.. I agreed, cos he can't live at mine, that he could eat fish when I couldn't see him. So... Dirty, rancid whore decides to feed him nothing but minging, frigging fish. Which, apart from anything else is a very limited diet, isn't it? Not to mention a very, very DIRTY diet. Tuna on a plate... *cries*, salmon chunks, fucking shrimp flavoured things, pilchards, sardines. How rancid! And when he purrs and jumps on my knee, I look like a bitch for pushing him away, he looks at me, eyes full of tears ... And I just can't make him see cos he's a cat and he dosen't understand my northern accent.
I can imagine in years to come, she'll steal my cat and sit there watching countdown naked with her smelly, unwashed arse marking the fabric of the armchair with brown, smelly methane particles, laughing loudly at Richard Whitely's jokes whilst listening to Robert Palmer and eating prawns with her mouth open out of her manky, cold, sweaty hands along with crab sticks just casually discarding of any dirty left over skin, on the brown, trodden in, matted carpet. Then she'll get up without washing her hands and naked-dance to careless Whispers by George Michael, rubbing her rather oversized, dappled and discoloured buttocks together, generating both friction and heat as well as smell in the most dirty and unclean dance imaginable whilst opening and shutting her mouth like a distressed peadophile making those dirty spitty noises that give her so much dirty pleasure. And all will be full of fish!
Oh, I can't live in a world where such things are allowed to go on, I'm off to kill myself... And my poor, wee Mo (cat), Steven Patrick Morrissey IInd. Its for your own good.