Tuesday, 7 August 2012

Cat required at 10 and 11 Downing Street

It seems that a rat was seen scuttling along Downing Street, just outside No. 10 where the Prime Minister of England lives.  It happened just as a BBC reporter was broadcasting outside the house, a rat was caught on the film walking past No. 10. See this newspaper article.
Daily Mail report on Cat needed at No. 10 Downing Street
Two of the cats that own me, Nera and Tabby, had their noses stuck in the newspaper and seemed to be reading an article intensively.

“What do you think Nera, shall we apply?”

“Why not Tabby, looks like a good job. I would be quite partial to a nice fat juicy rat now and again.”

“Would make a change from that vitamin pellet stuff we keep getting from Mrs. Human Nera. Are you going to write, or shall I?”

“I will write Tabby, my knowledge of the human language is more prolific than yours. After all royal blood does flow in my body.”

“Sorry Nera, but we are litter sisters, remember. Then I have the royal blood as well.”

“Not quite Tabby. You are a normal short haired Tabby and I have long luxury, silky fur. You know our mum did not take it so seriously on that memorable evening. I think your dad arrived first, and a few minutes later he was chased away by something special, like the King Cat of the area, or something like that. Mum told me.”

“I am not sure about that Nera. Mum told me that she was just on her way home after meeting my dad and she was ambushed by a big black smelly cat. She didn’t have a chance.”

“Not so important Tabby, so now to write our application letter.”

Dear Mr. Prime Minister David Cameron,

It was with interest that my half sister and I read that a cat would be required at No. 10 and 11 Downing Street. It so happens that my half sister Tabby and I, Nera, have now rid our neighbourhood of any mice or rats, and would be available for the job.

You may refer to our Great Uncle Hans as a reference to show how suited we would be. He has served for many years in the Swiss National Bank in Zürich, keeping their vaults and cellars free of any vermin that may be nibbling at documents concerning numbered bank accounts.

“Nera, do you think that’s a good idea to mention numbered bank accounts. We don’t want the Prime Minister to get the idea that we suspect him of anything to do with hidden funds in another country.”

“Tabby, I think you have a good idea. There are certain things that should be perhaps kept under a cover of secrecy. After all we don’t want him to get the idea that we are feline whistle blowers. In that case I won’t mention the special job Great Uncle Hans had of catching and eating gnomes, or what do you think Tabby.”

“Oh no Nera, definitely not. Gnomes do not exist now do they. After all we want to be able to return to our home land one day with no problems, if we get the job.”

“I will continue Tabby.”
It seems that the position of an official chief mouser has not been occupied since Mrs. Cherie Blair expelled Humphrey from this position. Through cat telepathy we were informed by Humphrey that Mrs. Blair did not have an allergy against cats but regarded Humphrey as a rival in her position as first lady and adviser to her husband. It seems that Tony would spend hours combing and stroking Humphrey while he was reading government documents; a situation which Mrs. Blair could not agree with.

We can assure you, Mr. Prime Minister, I and my litter sister Tabby, are two very clean cats and have never been suspected of being the cause for a cat allergy.

“Errr Nera, don’t you think you are overdoing it. I wouldn’t mention that.”

“Sorry Tabby, but I don’t really understand what you mean.”

“You know Nera, in summer your fur does tend to be inhabited by all sorts of moving things.”

“Tabby, do not be insulting. My fur is perfectly clean.”

“Well you know if you sit on a snail it tends to stick on your fur and meets an untimely death when it dries out. Mrs. Human did say your fur is a transport system for ants and other strange small insects into our home.”

“Tabby, be careful what you say. In London it is all concrete and stones. I don’t think the Prime Minister has a garden. We will be living in No. 10 Downing Street. That means I will. You can have No. 11.”

“But Nera, No. 11 is second class, I want to live in No. 10.”

“Tabby, I am the boss here. You will live in No. 11. Just think of the life we will lead; spoilt from morning to evening. A nice comfortable silk cushion to sleep on and above all the food we deserve. No more chemical pellets. Genuine caviar, fillet of beef, not to mention rats and mice in plenty.”

“In No. 11 a well?”

“Yes Tabby, in No. 11 as well. I will continue.”
We are sure that my sister and I will fulfil all expectations to keep your offices vermin free and will carry out the work conscientiously serving your country with honour. We have a very keen sense of smell and hearing and will rid your offices of all unwanted rats, four legged as well as two legged.

Thanking you for the consideration of our application

Yours faithfully,
Tabby and Nera Cat.

Enclosure: Attest from Great Uncle Hans, retired Swiss feline civil servant in bank service
1st Class Rat Catching Certificate from Cat Club Switzerland

No comments:

Post a Comment