Sunday, 11 September 2016

Going Home.

It was a 30th April 2016 like no other. Historians will tell you that there will never be a 30th April 2016 like it again or in fact at all. It was a 30th April 2016 that will go down in history as being unique in that it was the only 30th April 2016 to go down in history. At exactly half past eleven and precisely twenty two seconds, (give or take a few hours), I found myself amongst, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters, all liars and all those who had consigned themselves to the fiery lake of burning sulphur. Or Salford as its known. 
I was there to pick up Frank. 
Money, wisdom and insight were exchanged. I carefully transported him to the car and prepared myself for the long journey south. 

That's when it began. 
Oh it was adorable at first, like a baby's first cry or the sound of a cold beer being opened. The tiny lungs were little bellows to a cacophony of cute. Unfortunately, all the instruments were broken and this orchestra was stuck in the squeaky key of "meow". Over and over it played never once wavering or deviating from maximum volume. My gentle words of encouragement to cease were met with even more relentless, inexorable and unyielding meowing from the cage next to me. Radio stations took turns to blare from the speakers but none could drown out this feline acoustic torture. After fifteen minutes I was angry, after thirty minutes I was institutionalised and rocking back and forth. When an hour passed I was angry again and wondering how I could make it look like an accident. After ninety minutes I was beyond praying and calculating a merciful release into the barriers at full speed. 

Then, a miracle happened. 

Somewhere along the M5 at approximately eighty a heavenly calmness descended. Frank had tired himself out and fallen asleep. I was a vision of pure elation. I was happy, I was free of the auditory dungeon. I embraced life again and started to live once more. Hello circling buzzards, hello trees, hello weeds in the central reservation. Even the rain on the windscreen, the beautiful magnificent rain made me smile. Life was good. Then around Tiverton the little shit woke up and started again. 
I hate kittens.

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