Tuesday, 24 December 2013

Christmas Greetings

Dear Minions

May your dish be full

May you have cream to spare

May your trees be high

May you have gardens to explore

May you have sunshine to roll in

May you have safe places to retreat to

May your bed be soft

May the presents all be for you

May you always know where your jingle ball is

May your memories of lost loved ones be sweet not painful

And may all the blessings of Christmas be yours

Have a meowy Christmas
and a purry New Year.

With condescending acceptance (well you didn't expect actual love from the Supreme Feline Overlord did you?)
From Mr Bumpy

Tuesday, 17 December 2013


Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

Do you remember my adventures investigating Baby Joey and all the things she leaves in our house?

Well, Baby Joey got a new bed to keep here. It's bigger than the other one, and Mum doesn't have to bend so far to put her in and out of it.

She certainly looks comfortable when she's in it.

So, of course, one day when she wasn't here, I tried it.

And it really was comfortable. But Mum kept getting me out of it. Then she turned the mattress on its side for some strange reason.

Guess what?

With the mattress gone, Baby Joey's bed is the most fun place to play!

Paws and tails just slip through the gaps. It makes "hunt the tail" really interesting. It's so much fun!

What do you think "water pistol" means? Mum's talking about getting me one. I hope it's fun.

Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
I remain,

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Sunday, 15 December 2013

Saint Bumpy

Saint Bumpy washed his face and paws before
meeting Jesus.
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

With all the Christmas decorations going up in my house, and Mum doing all her Christmas baking, I've decided to get into the Christmas spirit, too.

I've been reenacting scenes from the life of my famous ancestor Saint Bumpy.

Saint B was known for washing his face and paws before meeting the young Jesus.

Of course, later the same day, he got in a bad mood and caused an earthquake in Bethlehem, scattering wise men everywhere. How's that for an epiphany?

OK, Saint B was a bit capricious. Some church scholars in fact suggest he wasn't a saint at all, but a complete jerk. They back this up with the story, probably apocryphal, of his making angels fall. (His making angels fall might be an apocryphal story, but it is a lot of fun to recreate. I've done that, and the earthquake, several times.)

I think the church scholars who criticize Saint B are probably just jealous that they don't have such an awesome ancestor. In my book, he's a true saint and a model for all cats to follow.

Whatever you're doing this Christmas, remember to keep your face and paws clean. As for the rest of your body, roll in the dirt, whatever. It doesn't matter. Even saints can't be completely clean.

Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
I remain,

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Wednesday, 4 December 2013

Goodbye Mr Woof

Mr Woof 1996-2013

Goodbye old friend,
faithful companion, confidant,
licker of toes and warmer of feet,
chaser (but never quite catcher) of posties' motorcycles,
thief of teddy bears, pillows and avocado sandwiches,
stoic survivor of paralysis tick, cane toad toxin, and cruciate catastrophies,
anxious barker, snorer, snuffly sniffer, 
fearful of cats, and of being alone,
lover of beaches, duck ponds, and furry blankies, and incredibly long naps,
heroic guarder of treats,
furry child and brother,
wagger of stumpy tail,
connoisseur of pigs ears, rawhide chews, and bad smells,
excitable puppy, even in old age,
weetbix gobbler,
prickle collector,
beard food storer,
hater of baths, flea treatments and veterinary thermometers,
well-meaning trip hazard,
lover of routine, of family, and scratches,
pathetic pleader for people food,
clown and king,
champion sleeper,
stress puppy,
botherer of offensive old neighbour,
prolific pooper,
territorial wee-er,
bathroom door guarder,

the best dog in the world.

Tuesday, 26 November 2013

The Feline Code

3. If the cat wants the middle of the bed,
the human must sleep on the edge.
The Obligations of Humans

  1. Provide fresh Friskies, stinky fish and water.
  2. Provide treats whenever the cat demands.
  3. If the cat wants the middle of the bed, the human must sleep on the edge.
  4. Never disturb a sleeping cat.
  5. If a cat puts his paws over his eyes, he's invisible. You can't see him, and you can't call him a "bad cat."
  6. You clean his litter tray. He doesn't clean your toilet. This tells you all you need to know about the cat-human relationship.
  7. A cat who wakes you up in the middle of the night because he wants attention, should be stroked, cuddled and showered in praise.
  8. Throwing a jingle ball for a cat to chase is a fulfilling and important use of a human's time.
  9. If the cat decides it is dinner time two hours before the normal dinner time - it's dinner time.
  10. When the cat wants brushies, it's non-negotiable.
  11. The dog is a sub-feline species.  It should never be favoured above the cat.
  12. The human is a sub-feline species. It should always serve the cat's needs.
  13. Emptying the bin is the cat's right. The human is honoured to be allowed to clean up the mess.
  14. Humans who do not like cats are not to be invited to visit the cat's house.

The Obligations of Cats

  1. Do whatever you want.
  2. Do it wherever you want.
  3. Do it whenever you want.
  4. Do it for whatever reason you want.

Monday, 25 November 2013


Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,
Tiger visited, and he was using my
cat box! - Mr Bumpy.

As you know, I am a very popular cat.  So you won't be surprised to know that I had a couple of sets of visitors last week.

The first set of visitors was Miss 22 and her husband, and of course they brought baby Joey.  Worse than that, they brought Tiger. He was in my cat box!

Mum said the humans wanted Tiger and me to meet, because next year, Tiger's moving next door and they don't want us fighting.

I had a close look and sniff at the cat box. It was definitely mine.  Mum said I didn't like using the cat box anyway, and unless both cats were going somewhere at the same time, there was no sense in Tiger having his own.

Well, of course, that was all too much for me.  I went out and sat on the patio all by myself all afternoon.  Tiger hid under Joey's fortress.

After a while I came in, and Tiger and I had a bit of a hiss at each other.  The humans laughed. Mum said my tail was bristled like a toilet brush.

I went back out to the patio to straighten out my tail. Tiger went back under Joey's fortress.  Mr Woof barked a bit trying to get to meet Tiger, but that's it.

Eventually the humans put Tiger back in my cat box and the visitors all went away.

I think I proved my point.

One of the small humans drew
a picture of me. - Mr Bumpy.
And your point was? - Mr Woof.

My point was .... smelly old dogs should mind their own business, that's what.

I only had overnight to recover, though.  Because there were more visitors the next day.

The smallish humans who live in the roof were visiting.

Mum got them to draw on baubles for Christmas decorations.

One of them drew a picture of me.

Maybe those smallish humans are OK after all. I still haven't really decided. Apparently they like me lots, even though they sometimes try to catch me, instead of waiting for me to come to them.

I don't want them to pick me up and cuddle me yet.  I like to be really sure of a human before I have a cuddle with them.

Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
I remain,

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Wednesday, 20 November 2013

What We're Doing Today

Mr Woof's To Do List:
7. Go outside and sleep in the sun.

  1. Wake up.
  2. Scratch.
  3. Go out for a bathroom break.
  4. Eat Weetbix and save some in beard for later.
  5. Go back to sleep.
  6. Wake up.
  7. Go outside and sleep in the sun.
  8. Come back inside.
  9. Ask to be lifted up on to the couch.
  10. Sleep on couch until dinner time.
  11. Go out for a bathroom break and randomly bark at the neighbourhood.
  12. Come in and bark at Mum for dinner. Bumps will help with the pleading and demanding.
  13. Wait patiently until Bumps has looked at my dinner and decided he doesn't want it and won't bother to hurt me for it.
  14. Gobble dinner.
  15. Sleep in front of the television.
  16. Go to bed. Sleep.

Mr Bumpy's To Do List:
19. If I find prey, attempt to bring it into the house without the humans seeing me.

  1. Wake up.
  2. Stroke Mum's hair (with claws extended) until Mum wakes up. 
  3. Demand Friskies.
  4. If Mum is too slow, bite her and tell her I'm going to eat her if she doesn't feed me immediately.
  5. Eat Friskies.
  6. Eat more Friskies.
  7. Puke from over-eating.
  8. Have a post-breakfast nap.
  9. Go out to the patio. Sit on the chair next to Budgie Towers and stare at the budgies in an intimidating manner.
  10. Find a spot in the sunshine. Have a mid-morning nap.
  11. Find Mr 19 and demand brushies.
  12. Have a late-morning nap.
  13. Plot world domination.
  14. Find a jingle ball. Take it to a human and demand it be thrown repeatedly for jingle ball chasing.
  15. Jump into one of the humans' beds. Have a mid-day nap.
  16. Wake up, move to Mr Woof's bed. Have an early afternoon.
  17. Scratch Mr Woof when he comes looking for his bed.
  18. Explore the garden, search for mice or lizards to hunt.
  19. If I find prey, attempt to bring it into the house without the humans seeing me.
  20. Some Official Feline Secrets.
  21. Have a mid-afternoon nap.
  22. Ask Mr 19 to put treats in my fortress.  
  23. Observe the neighbourhood from my fortress while eating treats and contemplating having all humans trained to obey me the way the humans who live in my home do.
  24. Chew on some of my cat grass contemplatively.
  25. Have a late afternoon nap on the furry blankey.
  26. Find Mr 19 and walk all over his computer while he's working on it.
  27. Find Mum and walk all over her computer while she's working on it.
  28. Have a pre-dinner nap (preferably on a human, in the position most inconvenient for the human).
  29. Get under Mum's feet and try to trip her over.
  30. Join Mr Woof in explaining the time and demanding my stinky fish.
  31. Investigate Mr Woof's smelly old dog food then decide my stinky fish is much better. Eat stinky fish.
  32. Walk all over the humans while they're watching television. Demand that they give me more attention than the news.
  33. Have an after dinner nap.
  34. Sneak out just before lock up time.
  35. Some more Official Feline Secrets.
  36. Ignore Mum when she calls me to come in.
  37. Stay out past lock up time.
  38. Once I'm sure Mum's asleep, scratch at her bedroom window.
  39. When Mum opens the window, leap from the window ledge to her shoulder, to the bed.  
  40. Sleep in the very middle of Mum's bed.

Sunday, 17 November 2013

Baby Blues

"Why can't I share Joey's things?"
- Mr Bumpy.
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

My Caturday was interrupted yesterday by baby Joey coming to visit.

Caturday should be all about me.  Actually everything should be all about me. Instead, Mum spent the afternoon fussing over Joey.

They had songs and stories and games with toys.  I said, "I have toys, you could throw my jingle ball for me." But Mum just made Joey's crocodile and turtle dance to nursery rhymes for her.

And I got told I can't use Joey's things. It's my house, and all these things are in it, but Mum says no, I can't use anything that's for Joey.  That's not fair at all.  If Joey wanted to share my Friskies I'd let her, as long as I got to eat first.

Then, when Mum put Joey in her fortress to give Mr Woof and me our dinner, I found out, Joey was going to stay all night.  Mum called it a "sleep over".  I called it an "imposition". A very, very small human was staying in my home, all night, and no-one even asked me if I approved.

Mum said she would leave the animal door open later so Mr Woof and I wouldn't keep asking to go out.

So I went out, all right.

It wasn't long before Mum was calling me back inside.  She heard a very loud cat fight, and for some reason assumed I was involved.

Of course, I wasn't.  I can't imagine why she thought I would lower myself to being involved in a neighbourhood cat fight.

Er, because she knows you, Bumps? - Mr Woof.

Anyway, I came in to reassure her I was fine, and curled up on the end of the couch, beside her.  I stayed right beside her then until today, when Miss 22 and her husband came and took Joey away.

Saturday, 9 November 2013

Why God Invented Humans

Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,
"I look at humans and I wonder:
what was God thinking?" - Mr Bumpy.

I have been pondering one of the great imponderables of history, theology, metaphysics, of the why of why.

The question I have been pondering is this:  after the perfection of the cat, why did God go on to invent something so utterly pointless as the human?

Humans only walk on two of their four legs, so they're constantly off balance. Their teeth and claws are useless for attack or defence, and no help for survival at all. Their fur only grows in a very small area and is no use at all for insulation against the weather. They're big, but their size doesn't give them any advantage in speed or agility. All in all, humans are a total failure in the area of design.

I look at humans, and I wonder: what was God thinking?

So here's my theological and anthropological reflection on why God made humans:

  • to open cans of stinky fish for cats
  • to be beds, pillows, seats for cats
  • to brush cats
  • to pour cream for cats
  • to throw jingle balls for cats
  • to open and pour Friskies for cats
  • to open doors for cats
  • to provide entertainment for cats
  • to be companions for cats
  • to give cuddles to cats when we're in a cuddly mood
  • to scratch cats behind the ears
  • to change litter trays for cats
  • to grow catnip for cats
  • to do anything else cats require of them.
In other words, God invented humans, inferior species that they are, to be servants for the far more superior cats.

I'm so glad I've solved that age-old puzzle.

Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
I remain,

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Sunday, 3 November 2013

A Bump in the Night

Mum: Bumpy!

Mr Bumpy:  Go away I'm sleeping.

Mum: Bumpy!

Bumpy: It's in the Feline Code, "Never disturb a sleeping cat!"

Mum: Apart from waking me up five times because you wanted cuddles, what else did you do last night?

Mr Bumpy: Go away.  I'm invisible. You can't see me.

Mum: Come here and explain this.

Mr Bumpy: I'm shocked! Mr Woof is such a bad dog!

Mr Woof: Who me? What did I do?

Mum: Bumpy, this shoe thing of yours is getting out of hand.

Mr Bumpy: Well, you leave shoes out on the floor and the shoe shelf, where any passing cat could get them. What do you expect?

Saturday, 2 November 2013

Further Investigation on the New Thing

Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,
"I thought I'd get away with investigating
Joey's fortress." - Mr Bumpy.

You might remember my post about the new thing Miss 22 and her husband brought to our house. I was trying to work out what it was.

One of my readers told me it probably had another name, not just "Grandma's Girl".  So I've been listening each time it comes here, and another thing the humans call it is "Joey".

That explains why I couldn't work out what it was.  I hadn't even thought it might be a baby kangaroo!

Er, Bumps, it's a very small human. - Mr Woof.

How would you know?

It smells like a human and it tastes like a human. - Mr Woof.

Tastes? Did you have a bite of it?

Of course not. That would be bad manners.  I gave it a little lick on the toe when I introduced myself.  It's a small, female, human.  That's called a girl.  And it's named Joey.  And she's quite happy to have her toes licked. - Mr Woof.

"Mum caught me!" - Mr Bumpy.
Well, I never would have thought of tasting it! That old dog's got skills, after all. Definitely tastes human, huh? Fancy naming a small human after a kangaroo.

I did try investigating Joey's fortress. Mum caught me in there and I was in trouble.

What's wrong we me checking out her fortress?

OK, I don't like humans going into my fortress, even though they have to when they change my litter tray. But that's my fortress.  I don't see what's wrong with me checking Joey's fortress. Cats are supposed to be able to go anywhere we want and do anything we want.  It's in the Feline Code.

Humans are supposed to let cats go anywhere we want and do anything we want.  That's in the Feline Code as well.  It's a pity my humans don't seem to read the code at all. Mum has no right to tell me I can't investigate Joey's fortress.
"I don't know what that is supposed
to teach me." - Mr Bumpy.

After my little investigation, the humans did something really strange.

The smallish humans who live in the roof came down and helped Mum and Mr 19 blow air into
these floppy things.  The floppy things got big and round.  Then they put the big round things into Joey's fortress, and said: "That will teach Bumpy."

I had a bit of a look, but I can't work out what it's supposed to teach me.

I'll have a closer investigation when there's no humans around. After all, they don't seem to like me going into Joey's fortress. So I'll do it when they're not looking. What they don't see won't hurt anyone, will it?

Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
I remain,

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Friday, 25 October 2013

Edu-cat-ion and Gifts

Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,
"Cream would have been a better present,
but I guess this was pretty good for
small humans."  - Mr Bumpy

Today was World Teachers Day.

I've never needed anyone to teach me anything.  I just always known all I need to know.

So you're saying you never learn anything? - Mr Woof.

No, I never have to learn anything.

Twit! - Fang Budgie.

Humans, however do need to learn things.  Miss 22 and Mr 19 used to go to school, and now they go to uni. They have teachers to teach them important things that humans need to know.

I'm not quite sure what they learn, but I think it's things like how to feed cats, how to brush cats, how to throw jingle balls for cats and how to change cat litter.  I think Mr 19 must be almost finished learning, because he's incredibly good at brushies and throwing my jingle ball.

Learning about cats is so important, that my cat-it-orials are taught in school. For instance, I've discovered that Mrs Blake at Grace College in Redcliffe has been looking at my blog with her grade seven English class.

I'm sure they've learned lots of very important things from reading my cat-it-orials. I was told they read my post about the Great Friskies Crisis, so they definitely know how important it is to always make sure there are plenty of Friskies in the house.

One of Mrs Blake's classes has also been putting together presents for small humans who don't have the good things small humans have in Australia. That's something extra they did, as well as learning important things from my cat-it-orials.

"I inspected the boxes as a public service" -
Mr Bumpy.
Well, of course, as a public service, I felt it was my duty to give the presents a very close inspection.

They included clothes, and toys and toothbrushes, and pencils and pens and books.  There were some great things for small humans in the boxes.

I was a little disappointed to find that none of the boxes had cream, stinky fish, friskies or jingle balls, but both Mum and Mrs Blake said the presents weren't for me. I don't know how anyone could make presents, and not make some for me.

It's about giving things to small humans who don't have a lot - not to give things to a cat who has heaps of stuff. - Mr Woof.

Anyway, I did think it was very good of them to pack such interesting boxes of things. And I'm sure other small humans will be happy with these presents.

I think I'll give Mrs Blake's grade 7 English classes my Bumpy Seal of Approval.

Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
I remain,

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

(If you want to know more about the shoe box presents for small humans, you'll find them at Operation Christmas Child.)

Saturday, 19 October 2013

Afraid? Who Me?

Me? I'm just totally chill - Mr Bumpy.
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

If you live in Queensland, especially on the coastal side, you'll know about summer storm season.

Well, even though it's still only the middle of spring, the awareness campaign has already started.  Not that we're worried about a disaster here. No, with the exception of the Great Friskies Crisis, Mum keeps the pantry so well stocked that we could be isolated for a year before we have a problem. Well maybe not quite a year, and maybe we'd want electricity before then.

Anyway, back to my story.

Some animals are frightened in storms.  Mr Woof is. He's a bit of a sook.

Me, I just take it in my stride.

What about the time you.... - Mr Woof.

As I was saying...  I'm not scared of storms.  So when we heard storm warnings yesterday, I wasn't bothered.

When the wind blew up, I wasn't bothered.

When there was that first rumble of thunder.....

Yes?- Mr Woof.

I got calmly up on to the couch where Mum and Mr Woof were, to make sure they weren't scared.

Sure, that's how I remember it...  - Mr Woof (winks).

Well, who cares how you remember it anyway? You're just a smelly old dog.

Anyway, we really didn't have much of a storm here. Just a little bit of rain, some wind, and one rumble of thunder.

But when the big storms come. We'll be ready.  And I'll keep an eye on Mum, just in case she gets scared.

Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
I remain,

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Thursday, 17 October 2013

The Great Friskies Crisis of 2013

Friskies at last!
I'm first. Mr Woof can wait his turn.
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

I have just been through a very great trauma.

Last night, Mum served my stinky fish, and Mr Woof's doggy meat, and she topped up the Friskies dish. That's all right. Then she said, "Oh, we've run out of Friskies."

I looked up at her in horror. We're out of Friskies! What kind of negligence was that?  How could she have failed to plan ahead for a potential Friskies shortage?  It's almost storm season, we're supposed to be prepared for disaster - and there's no disaster as great as a Friskies shortage.

"It's OK," she said. "The groceries are being delivered first thing in the morning. You'll have Friskies for breakfast."

That was such a relief.

But when I woke up this morning.... there were no Friskies in my dish.

Mum said the grocery delivery hadn't come yet.

She put cream in my dish and told me that should hold body and soul together until the Friskies arrived.

The cream was good, but there were still no Friskies when I'd finished it.

"They'll be here before ten o'clock." Mum said.

I can't really tell time, but that sounded like a very long time. I could starve to death in that time, I was sure of it.

I went outside for some sun, and to roll around a bit.

Eventually, the grocery delivery man arrived.  Mum unpacked the Friskies as soon as the bag with them was in the house, and she filled the Friskies dish.

There was a line-up by then.

I got first feed of Friskies.  They're my Friskies.  But Mr Woof was right there waiting for his turn. He'd been anxious to get them as well.

Now that the crisis has been averted, I feel much better.

I checked the grocery bags - Mum bought a spare pack as well, so we don't run out again.

Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
I remain,

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Wednesday, 16 October 2013

A New.... Something?

"But that's my spot!" - Mr Bumpy.
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

I have to tell you about something strange.

For quite a while now, Miss 22's been getting a very, very big tummy.  I've suspected she was going to have kittens.

But what she and her husband brought around to our house the other day, wasn't a kitten, or I don't think it was. Actually, I watched it for a while, and I still don't know what it was.

It was the size of a full-grown cat. And it's only got hair on the top of its head like humans do.

Mum calls it "Grandma's Girl". So I guess that's its name.

Grandma's Girl behaves like a newborn kitten.  It drinks milk and sleeps.  It even had a little meow when it wanted its milk.

Oh, and its got its own fortress.  It's much, much, smaller than my fortress, and doesn't have a roof.  But the sides are made so you can see through it. All Grandma's Girl did in there was sleep, though. Not that there was much else to do. There's no ledges to jump on or catgrass to chew in Grandma's Girl's fortress.

And Grandma's Girl has very bad manners. It doesn't share anything: not milk or Mum's lap. Worse, it doesn't use a litter tray. (I'd tell you what it did, but that's just too disgusting.)

I didn't see it walking while it was here - it was just being carried everywhere by the humans.  Once I see it walking, I'll know what it is.  If it uses all of its legs, I'll know it's a giant funny-looking kitten.  If it only uses two legs, I'll know it's a miniature human.

Anyway, whatever it is, I guess I'll have to get used to it.  It doesn't look like they're going to give it away. All of the humans seemed rather attached to it, although I don't see why.

After seeing Grandma's Girl, I've decided that I'm glad I've been neutralised.

Mr Woof: I think the word you're looking for is neutered.

I don't think I'd want a kitten or whatever-it-is that was like that.

Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
I remain,

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Wednesday, 4 September 2013

If Anyone Wants Me, I'll Be With My Jingle Ball

"I've decided to be an olympic jingle ball player
instead." - Mr Bumpy.
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

I was sick of politics anyway.

Apparently I can't run for parliament.

I filled in my form and went to the Australian Electoral Commission.

They said I couldn't nominate for the election because I wasn't on the electoral roll.

Then they said I couldn't register the Feline Pawty because it didn't have enough members who were on the electoral roll.

I asked if I could be on the electoral roll.

They asked if I was over 18 years old.

I said no, I'm only seven. They said come back when I'm 18.

Eighteen!  Not even Mr Woof's 18.  He's only 17, and that's so old he's no use for anything. He can't even catch a jingle ball.

It's all a humanist plot.  Most non-human species don't live much longer than 18 years, so the rules are made to keep non-humans out of politics.

I was getting bored with politics anyway.  I'm a superior animal, and shouldn't lower myself to behaving like a human.

So instead of being Prime Minispurr, I've decided to have a career as an olympic champion jingle ball chaser.  I trained for five whole minutes this morning. It's going to take me a couple of hours nap to recover from that.

I know many people will be disappointed at not being able to vote for a non-human party in this election, but don't fear.  I've heard the Greens have a Leadbeater's Possum running somewhere. (Or maybe he's just running their campaign for them, I'm not sure, but they talk about him a lot.) So on Saturday, you may not be able to vote Feline, but you can vote Possum.

Is 18 really old for a possum?  I don't know.  I should ask Honey, she's the Feline Pawty's expert on indigenous animals. I don't know what the possum's policies are, but he should be pro-animal.

If anyone wants me, I'll be with my jingle ball.

Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
I remain,

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord,
Australian Olympic Jingle Ball Team

Tuesday, 3 September 2013

Mr Bumpy's Election Nomination Form

First Name: Bumpy (Full Name Mr Bumpy Cat)
Cream - Mr Bumpy's minimum bribe level.

Distinguishing Features: Yes, I'm very distinguished.

Any history of insanity in the family:  Well, my humans do some crazy things like keeping doors closed, and having a "no corpses in the house" rule.

Criminal Record: A little bit of destruction of property, the occasional murder and a breach or two of the "no corpses in the house" rule.

Minimum Bribe Level: Cream

Ambitions in Life: Lots more cream, stinky fish and friskies, and world domination.

Sign here:


The questions on this form were taken from Blackadder the Third, episode Dish and Dishonesty.

Blackadder: Right. Now all we have to do is fill in this MP application form. Name: Baldrick. First name...?
Baldrick: Er, I'm not sure.
Blackadder: Well, you must have some idea...
Baldrick: Well, it might be Sod off.
Blackadder: What?
Baldrick: Well, when I used to play in the gutter, I used to say to the other snipes, "Hello, my name's Baldrick," and they'd say, "Yes, we know. Sod off, Baldrick."
Blackadder: All right, right right right right, Mr. S. Baldrick. Now; distinguishing features... None.
Baldrick: Well, I've got this big growth in the middle of my face.
Blackadder: That's your nose, Baldrick. Now; any history of insanity in the family? Tell you what, I'll cross out the in. Any history of *sanity* in the family? None whatsoever. Now then; criminal record...
Baldrick: Absolutely not.
Blackadder: Oh, come on, Baldrick, you're going to be an MP, for God's sake! I'll just put fraud and sexual deviancy. Now; minimum bribe level...
Baldrick: One turnip. Oh, hang on, I don't want to price myself out of the market.
Blackadder: Baldrick, I've always been meaning to ask: Do you have any ambitions in life apart from the acquisition of turnips?
Baldrick: Er, no.
Blackadder: So what would you do if I gave you a thousand pounds?
Baldrick: I'd get a little turnip of my own.
Blackadder: So what would you do if I gave you a million pounds?
Baldrick: Oh, that's different. I'd get a great big turnip in the country.
Blackadder: [someone knocks at the door] Oh God, I'll get that. Here
[pushes paper to Baldrick]
Blackadder: , sign here.
[motions where with his hand; Baldrick marks an 'X' on Edmund's palm; Edmund presses his palm against the application]
Script copied from Internet Movie Database (IMDb)