Where's Cricket?

Many is the time I wish the Smith cat would disappear, especially when he decides he wants his breakfast at three in the morning. I also suspect he has Munchausen’s Syndrome (causing self-harm to get attention), such as when he faked a cancerous lesion (ka ching at the local veterinarian to find out it was a scratch from a stick).

Nonetheless, he is much loved, and I would be distraught if he were to go missing. As you all no doubt know by now, Nicky Watson’s "chuwawa" Cricket has gone missing – last seen at Matarangi. Now – New Zealand is a very small country – it can't be that hard to find the wee fellow.

Everyone – go check your pockets, handbags, and under stray bits of dust. His mother wants him back desperately. Contact details are on 'Pets on the Net' if you have any information. Proper information, don’t be a nong and make something up.

Where's Cricket?
Capri pants! Who told Auckland women these were permissable to wear? Someone needs to own up, and get the sound thrashing they deserve. My walk along Ponsonby Road yesterday, in the glorious sunshine, was irrevocably ruined by these cropped affronts to the senses. I would no sooner recover from one pair, when another pair would stride stumpily into view. Beach – yes. Home – if you must. In the city – non! I get all the fashion mags, and I do not recall seeing these horrible things gracing models elegantly wasted limbs.

Remember the words of Trinny and Susannah – one’s legs only look as long as one’s trousers – and Auckland’s women are looking like extras from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

Take them off at once, and put some proper clothing on.

Update: Au revoir, Cricket.