Tag Archives: cats

BadTripe Health Check


Nowadays it’s considered desirable, fashionable even, to live past the age of 40 without dying of an obesity related illness. Celebrities like Gary Lucy, Abs from 5 and Cristiano Ronaldo have made men more conscious than ever about their physical appearance and fitness and there is now more pressure than ever for men to be able to withstand ever more virulent strains of deadly bacteria without succumbing to death like some sort of pathetic girl.

The author is (apparently) not getting any younger. Although I am often complimented on my youthful good looks so perhaps I have at least succeeded in temporarily arresting the ageing process. Either way there is definitely a picture of me in an attic somewhere which looks absolutely fucking horrendous.*

*That’s what we in the trade call a ‘literary reference’. Look it up luddites.

Anyway, due it being 2016 and all and the author being a man who could reasonably be described as ‘metrosexual’ (by my own father-in-law) I have decided to keep an eye on my health, fitness and general wellbeing and I thought I would share my experiences with my vast readership just in case any of you are considering going on living, for at least a few more years…

Going to the Doctors


Doctors, generally speaking, are perverts. I don’t think there’s any great deal of confusion as to why men are reluctant to visit them. It doesn’t really matter what is wrong with you, they’ll find some way of getting all creepy about it and then interfering with you. I myself have been interfered with by many doctors, for a variety of reasons and I’ve never really thought to question it at the time, like;

‘Why are you doing this to me?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘What is the purpose of this rectal exam you’re giving me?’

‘I’m sorry I don’t quite understand the question. This is a doctors’ surgery, sir and we will proceed with you as we see fit. If you are seeking medical advice then might I suggest the internet? Now kindly stop wasting my time and let’s get on with this.’

It’s all they ever do. Then they just tell you that they don’t know what’s wrong with you (why would they?) but just advise you to take a cocktail of drugs and see if it helps.

Recently though I felt I had an issue which couldn’t be ignored any more. It was causing me a fair bit of pain and discomfort and I needed to get it seen to so I begrudgingly booked an appointment, three and half months hence, to see my GP.

I had a sore wrist.

Not a glamorous, or even an interesting malady but it had been giving me shit for some time so I decided to get it checked out and the conversation went roughly like this;

‘I see Mr White so it’s a bad wrist is that correct?’

‘That’s right doctor.’

‘Indeed. On your dominant hand?’


‘Been troubling you for a while has it?’

‘Comes and goes.’

‘May I ask your profession?’

‘Sales. Telecommunications, smashed my targets last 3 quarters.’

(at this point I probably did a gun firing gesture with my strong hand)

‘Is that your company Audi parked downstairs in reception?’

‘Well yes. I didn’t see a parking man so I just drove straight in.’

‘What’s in that bag you’re carrying?’

‘An artisanal grapefruit and a bottle of small batch gin for my afternoon Martini. Where is all this leading may I ask? Just what exactly are you driving at? This is a serious medical issue.’

‘It’s Wanker’s Cramp.’

‘How dare you. I can assure you sir that I have never in my life resorted to onanism, I’m not some sort of depraved chimpanzee.’

‘Don’t worry Mr White this is a doctors’ surgery we see this sort of thing all the time, very common in men such as you.’

‘Now you look here buster. I came here for some tests. Now I want you to pick up your little bag of tools and drain me of every one of my bodily fluids before I….wait, wait that came out wrong. Just give me a fucking blood test. I demand it.’

‘Very well, just bend over. I mean roll up your sleeve.’

And lo and behold, after a fair bit of faffing around I was diagnosed with Haemochromatosis. Now I know what you’re thinking – that would be amazing in Scrabble and you’d be absolutely correct. Not great in life though, as we all know the longer the word, the worse the disease. That’s why children learn that song in school, to help them remember this simple rule. It was certainly one of the first things I learned as a child;

‘Good in Scrabble equals bad in life, 

If your disease has more than 9 letters then you’re probably going to die.’

There are a couple of notable exceptions to this but it’s like ‘I before E except after C’ or that really annoying rhyme about the days of the months where they had to crowbar in a really awkward line about February having 28 days all square, except in every leap yair. So the full song actually goes;

‘Good in Scrabble equals bad in life, 

If your disease has more than 9 letters then you’re probably going to die.

Cancer in Scrabble? Well that’s still alright,

Even in life you can still survive,

But AIDS is absolutely shite.’

Everyone knows that one right?

The Haemochromatosis was completely unrelated to my bad wrist and is in fact an excess of iron in the blood. The doctor had warned me that this was a possibility but I was like, ‘Nah that won’t be it. I’ll check the internet.’ Unfortunately when you Google ‘too much iron in blood’ there is literally only one option which comes up.

The treatment is simple; get a pint of blood drained out of you once a week in order to dilute the iron until your levels return to normal. You make new blood quickly so the iron levels go down. It takes longer to get your haemoglobin levels back up though so you will be walking around like an anaemic zombie for quite a while. Once your iron is back to normal then you just simply keep getting a pint of blood drained out of you but on a less frequent basis, for the rest of your life. Pretty simple really.

There are many symptoms of the disease but they don’t generally present until you’re about 50 years old, by which time the excess iron in your blood has started to deposit itself in various organs, causing irreparable damage. It’s ok if it’s caught early though so it was a good save. BY ME! I demanded the blood tests and diagnosed myself. When I asked my doctor for some advice about the condition, including the possible symptoms the conversation went like this;

‘What are the symptoms?’

‘There are many symptoms but off the top of my head…erectile dysfunction.’

‘How dare you sir! I have never in my life had any trouble, well maybe once or twice, but I will not tolerate…stand up. Stand Up! I will bum you right where you stand, right now as God is my witness so help me.’

‘Please Mr White calm down, there’s every chance you’ll never experience any symptoms as long as it’s kept under control.’

‘Oh right. And I suppose this is where you tell me you can perform a simple test to see if I am capable of achieving an erection and that you’re happy to do it for free am I right?’

‘Well I mean I could.’

‘Good day sir.’

And so there you go. One fucking visit to the doctors got me diagnosed with Wanker’s Cramp and Erectile Dysfunction all in the space of a week. Never, ever, ever again. I’ll just die.

The really annoying thing is that when you look up Haemochromatosis, E.D is like the second fucking thing on the list which is why I generally avoid mentioning it except on this blog which no one reads.

There is a Haemochromatosis Society so I will definitely be running for President of that just as long as I don’t get made in to the face of Erectile Dysfunction. I can do without that thanks very much.

Getting in to Shape


Now. The author has a physique which could probably be described as ‘Skinny Chubby’ basically skinny in the arms and legs with a slight paunch around the middle and a massive penis. I’ve always felt that I could just about live with it.

Trouble is that once you go past 30 you do start to notice yourself getting progressively chubbier. You can almost see the pounds begin to pile on as you sit on your nice comfy John Lewis sofa eating Kettle Chips out of a bowl with Moroccan hummus and throwing glass after glass of delicious Pinot Noir down your neck.You realise that something has to be done in order to balance things out. Quite literally.

Men’s Health Magazines all seem to convey the message that health, fitness and an improved physique are easily within our grasp. All of the covers are plastered with seductive promises of a quick fix, something we men all love because no one can really be fucked with doing exercise. They all say; ‘Get the arms you want in just 15 minutes’ or ‘Seven Day Abs; The Secret’. Trouble is that the secret is you have to work out, really hard, for seven hours, seven days a week for at least seven years and then continuously after that, forever.

Like so many poor misguided fools I joined a gym just after Christmas. On my first visit they made me fill in a form and took my bank details. On my second visit they showed me round. Third visit a young, healthy whipper-snapper full of youthful vitality got me in a room and asked me what my goals were. I told him my goals were to be able to walk up a flight of stairs without having a coronary and to not die before I reach the age of 33. He asked me how my self esteem was to which I replied that my wife said I had love handles so how the fuck did he think it was?

He then laughed nervously, told me he was ‘freaking out’ about turning 20 and then asked if I would like to get undressed and let him take pictures of me, to which I politely declined.

Then on my fourth visit I actually used some of the equipment in the gym, I think that was in March.

Having watched all 4 of the proper Rocky films and the car crash of number 5 and 6 and even the latest spin off I was given to understand that my path to fitness would happen quickly. I’d pictured it as a well cut montage sequence set to 80’s music interspersed with some light stretching but it turns out that isn’t necessarily true. I’d got up early to go to the gym for crying out loud! I swam ten lengths of the pool and then had a sauna so why wasn’t I ripped and good at boxing yet? It just didn’t make any sense.

At a party, whilst drunk (FYI – wasn’t my fault, someone spiked me with 19 beers) I started talking to my friend Ian about this dilemma because I know that he does Thai Boxing and I told him that it looked easy and I should be able to do it and that I’d fight him. Besides the fact I am highly capable of losing a fight against a small child or even an inanimate object, I couldn’t even hit anyone properly anyway on account of my misdiagnosed Wanker’s Cramp. My wrist is still fucked with no explanation.

Ian suggested that I go to see his personal trainer Mike and this is where the real pain and suffering began. The first time I went I made it through about 10 minutes before collapsing in a cold sweat and having to go outside to be sick. Second time I put my back out attempting to swing a sledgehammer at a tractor tyre. Third time, nearly sick but just about made it to the end.

Mike, to his eternal credit is in fact teaching me to box and you know if you’ve ever had a dream where you’re trying to fight someone but your punches have no effect whatsoever? That is basically me at boxing but I swear I’m getting better and one day soon I am going to march in to my GP’s office and knock him the fuck out.


At the end of each session Mike very kindly stretches my muscles out for me which basically involves me, on my back with another man pinning both of my legs behind my head after which I can’t walk properly for about a week.

Just like a visit to the fucking doctor’s then!!!

Boom Boom.




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L-Baz Quotes Part 2 (Classic L-Baz)

22802_10155611254505004_3723297190832245637_nIn a pleasant change from writing about my own petty quibbles and gripes, every now and again I like to take a look at the work of an unparalleled comedy genius, a leader in her field, a true visionary and also I’m very happy to say my wife, Sarah.

I can no longer really refer to her as L-Baz as she gave up the surname Leatherbarrow and took my name White upon agreeing to marry me. Much easier when booking a table at a restaurant but lacking any of the warm eccentric charm of her maiden name. It’s actually quite a weird feeling when your wife changes her name. Even though I was thrilled to have her take my name and become my wife, I think we were both a little sad to see Leatherbarrow go and so in keeping with the fact that this is number 2 in a series of these tribute pieces, I’ll be referring to her as L-Baz throughout, it seems fitting in the context.

It’s fair to say that my wife has to put up with an awful lot being married to me. There was the time I bought her a glass of Pimms that was too full. Naturally she reacted as anyone would upon being defiled in this manner and burst in to a bout of uncontrollable hysterics. I advised her that she should write down her feelings and save them up for when she eventually publishes her memoirs or writes an article for one of those women’s magazines entitled ‘My Pimms Hell – One Woman’s Struggle’. I also pointed out that there were places she could go if she no longer felt safe, women’s refuges I think they’re called where some big old friendly northern dinner lady type, no doubt called Pat would gather her up in her comforting bosom and reassure her that she was safe now.

‘Come on love, you come inside, you’re safe now.’

‘Sometimes when I close my eyes at night it’s like I’m back there and it’s happening all over again (sobbing and wailing).’

‘You let it all out love, we’ve all been there. That bastard can’t hurt you any more.’

Then there was the time she came home on a Friday and wanted us to get in bed at 7pm and watch Frozen. I agreed without hesitation but apparently I didn’t show quite the appropriate amount of enthusiasm. Yes it really is Shipman – Fritzl – Hitler – Rick White in the bad husband stakes.

Anyhoo, all that aside I have written before about how L-Baz’s completely unintentionally hilarious turn of phrase has enriched my life to the point where I actually did begin writing down stuff that she says. It really is quite a fascinating insight in to the way in which her mind works, I don’t know if it applies to all women. My advice to anyone would be to start keeping detailed records of everything your wife says, it’s funny and it will definitely help you to win more arguments.

One example of what I’m talking about is the way in which she’ll carry on a conversation we had six months ago as if that conversation were still taking place. I specifically remember in the middle of a car journey she just came out with;

‘Mum said they did a test and the paint was better.’

I like it when this happens because then I have to use my powers of deduction to work out what on earth she’s talking about which in many ways is more fun than a normal conversation.

‘Who is they in this scenario?’

‘A magazine.’

‘And what kind of paint was it?’

‘Farrow & Ball.’

Got it! We were in the Farrow & Ball shop about six months ago and I was moaning about how it’s so ridiculously expensive and B&Q will just copy the colour for you for half the price. And I win! Actually I lose because I’ve been proved wrong by Sarah’s mum (comedy genius in her own right) and a magazine but still, fun.

There’s also the way in which she remembers details of events and retells them. I think it’s actually the way that she experiences things very differently to the way in which, let’s not call them sane people but ‘linear thinkers’ experience things. The things that Sarah remembers about an event may very well bear absolutely no relevance to what the event or the thing in question actually was supposed to be or what actually took place but just one thing that she noticed which will form the basis of her recollection. For example, when Sarah’s dad invited me to go and watch Newcastle United with him Sarah said;

‘You’ll like it Rick, all the dogs have shoes on.’

At the time I don’t think I even questioned this, merely made a mental note of it and filed it away under ‘Things I’ll probably have to repeat to a psychiatric nurse, police officer or judge one day.’ But lo and behold, when we arrived at the match I spotted a police dog with  these little plastic boots on its feet to stop it from treading on glass.


police dogs – fancy

I bet if you asked Sarah about that match it would go something like;

‘Remember that time you went to watch Newcastle with your dad?’


‘It was in February I think.’


‘Newcastle beat Real Madrid 13-12 on penalties?’


‘You took one of the penalties?’

‘There was a pitch invasion.’

‘And an explosion.’

‘You had to be airlifted out by helicopter?’

‘All the dogs had shoes on?’

‘Right why didn’t you just say that Rick, you fucking moron of course I remember dogs with shoes on day it was the best day ever.’

Fascinating stuff I’m sure you’ll all agree.


Sharpshooting wit

And so in tribute to my wonderful wife here are a few of her best quotes from recent months.

Childhood memories;

‘My only memory from childhood is when I had that pigeon on my head.’

Discussing the pros and cons of a vegan diet;

‘It’s not for me, I don’t even think you’re allowed to eat meat.’

Playing chess;

‘Rick! That’s a cheaters move, you’re killing all my animals.’

Star Wars;

‘I don’t want to watch Star Wars Rick I don’t like it.’

‘You’ve never seen it.’

‘I have.’

‘What happens in it then?’

‘There’s a Jedi.’

‘And what’s a Jedi?’

‘A furry thing.’


‘You can watch the football when you’ve done the hoovering, nothing comes without hard work.

‘Not even watching the football on my own TV?’

‘Our TV, there’s no I in marriage. There’s only an R.’

Completely out of the blue;

‘I want a man who takes an interest in my front garden.’

Explaining the basic plot of Cats – The Musical

‘They’re cats.’


‘They’re quite weird, and I think they live in a drain.’

A very reasonable debate on kitchen cupboard space distribution and teamwork;

‘I’m the wife. And you’re a moron, so I get to decide what goes in the cupboard.’

Interior design;

‘You’re not allowed to hang your guitar on the wall Rick, you’re not Bryan Adams.’

And my absolute favourite, whilst watching David Blunkett on TV (and I knew this was coming);

‘His eyes look weird.’

‘He is blind.’

‘Well they should put a message up on the screen to warn people, he looks shifty.’


David Blunkett – Shifty

So there you go. Just a bit of the pure comedy gold which keeps me constantly entertained at home and helps to temper my daily rage. I think the funniest thing about L-Baz is that she literally has no filter and whatever nonsense she has in her mind just spills forth. I for one very much hope she never changes.




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Crappy Unsigned Band Reviews #1


I get a lot of CUB’s following me on Twitter, most of whom I’m assuming have never looked at my page but just saw me amongst the followers of some other bands and thought that their crappy music is similar and that I might follow them back. Now I’m sure you’re going, “Rick that can’t be true, you’re so funny and handsome and I’m sure these bands are just fans of yours” and you may be right but I think the majority of them just want to up their numbers, well not on my time do you hear? If you want endorsement from me then you’re going to have to earn it the hard way sunshine! (That probably sounds a bit creepy, I just mean I’ll review your band on BadTripe.com).

I posted a tweet recently saying that any CUBs who follow me will get a free review on here which may be seen by anywhere up to 5 people a day who accidentally visit my site, great exposure I’m sure for any young kids with a dream of making it in music. Plus it’s only fair, if you expect me to support your band then you should be prepared for my honest feedback.

Now before you all start banging on about art and criticism and “hey c’mon man who are you to criticise our music what have you ever done?” Well let me tell you my band signed a record deal and released an album, albeit only in the great nation of Japan but it’s still a record deal you bunch of pricks and our album is available on Amazon for £18 or roughly 2500 Yen and it has a 5 star review (from me – I tried to change my name on Amazon to Nick Dwight but it didn’t work). So there you have it, I’m better than you, my opinion is worth more now let’s do this!


Rogues Gallery

First up @roguesgalleryca  from Rosemead California who describe their sound as ‘quirky’, well my friends quirky as in how my old R.E teacher used to wear purple tights with orange shoes or quirky as in deliberately trapping your genitals betwixt the pages of your Nigella Lawson cookbook for sexual gratification? Let’s find out….

BadTripe Verdict: Hippy Yank Indie straight out the 90’s. I’m listening to ‘No Way Home’ and I’m hearing bits of Nada Surf and The Dead Milkmen which is no bad thing but the track lacks a major hook. I Imagine these guys like riding longboards, smoking a bowl and communicate with each other using only the word ‘dude’. More quirkiness required in my opinion and get a fucking haircut you bunch of stoner bruhs…

Tardigrades in Space

Next, from Newcastle-Upon-Tyne we have what appears to be one person going by the name of Tardigrades in Space @spacetards and with a Twitter bio that reads, “Anonymous mega-twat shitting out music in a bedroom nearer to you than you’d find comfortable” I’m definitely interested.

BadTripe Verdict: Fucking ace! Within about 3 seconds of listening to ‘Infanticide’ I knew it was for me. There’s this awesome post punk/lo-fi vibe which reminds me a bit of early Cloud Nothings, the vocals have some creepy weird effect on them which I love and the guitars skip between intricate and happy sounding riffs one minute to nice and sludgy power chords the next. The track never stops moving, a really fun listen. This is certainly Nigella level quirky and you sir have got yourself a follow and a fan.

**A quick aside – as I’ve been sat here writing this I’ve been followed by ‘Mellor Golf Club’ and I was really hoping that was a band as it’s a good name but alas it is just a golf club. Not too sure what they want with me.**

The State of How

@TheStateofHow from Orlando, Florida seem to be a very professional outfit, which won’t do them any favours around here. Professional pictures, fancy-schmancy website and an album on iTunes although I can’t tell if this is self released or through a label so are they even officially a CUB? Not sure…

BadTripe Verdict: Very well produced and strong songs, reminiscent of The Postal Service or Panic at the Disco but for me it’s just all far too polished. A harsh criticism given how tough it must be to break through, especially in the states. On paper I should like this band but they sound like quite a lot of other people would like them and that makes me not like them, you see? This sort of unpredictable, fickle attitude must be maddening for bands which is why I chose to give up music and work in Telecoms, where you can be 100% certain that everyone hates you for the reasons they have stated clearly.

Time for one more?

Ring Hollow

With a name that sounds like a bad case of dysentery, Southern California’s @RingHollow do look rather serious in their moody black and white Twitter photo. Every tweet is for a ‘new single which has just dropped’. The fact that there seems to be one a month points clearly to CUB territory.

BadTripe Verdict: Generic metal yawnathon. This kind of metal has been done to death, just a bloke shouting over some arbitrary Ibanez guitar and a shuddering double bass drum. I like a bit of metal but there’s got to be something to distinguish it from everything else. Not for me I’m afraid chaps, maybe just lighten up a bit? It’s all so angsty why not write a song about the pleasant feeling of using a hair dryer on your balls on a chilly winter’s morning or the satisfaction one derives from knowing one’s spice cupboard is really well stocked. Just some ideas.

Well that wraps it up for this week. Hopefully I’ll get some more bands to review soon and make this a regular thing. Until then good luck to all you Crappy Unsigned Bands out there! It’s really hard but whatever happens it’s a fucksight more fun than having an actual job and responsibility and shit so think yourselves lucky and just enjoy it while you can.

Much love! x






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Bad Tripe clinical study – Is my cat a psychopath?


The author, with cat.



This is my cat, George or to give her her full title, Georgia Elizabeth Katzenberg-White. She is five years old (I’m pretty sure) and she was born in Sheffield. Although I think she may have just come in to existence via some dreadful portal of pure evil. When I first got her I thought she was a boy, hence the name which just stuck. Maybe she’s always known deep down that I wanted a boy, I have told her this on many occasions so it is possible and maybe this has lead to her hatred of the human race in general. Looking back though I think her general misanthropy stems back to when she was just a young cat, barely more than a kitten really and a team of vets tried to give her an injection and failed, she wasn’t having that, no siree, she fought like Gerard Butler in that film. I’d love to tell you George fought the good fight and the vets left her alone, I wish I could tell you that, but the vets is no fairy-tale place, plus I’d paid for the operation I wasn’t just going to let the stupid bee-yatch run around and get pregnant, I’m a responsible fucking pet owner thank you very much. And so the vets gassed her out, in an actual gas chamber and then ripped out her ovaries. George woke up with a cone on her head and with half her body shaved and stitched up I mean I reckon it’d piss anyone off really. After that she gained a shit load of weight, I’m told it’s the hormones and I’ve had her on a diet ever since although up until very recently she’s always been a house cat so a lack of exercise didn’t help, at her heaviest she weighed just over seven kilos which I’m told is the size of two cats. Despite her weight (which is actually improving thank Christ) the vet assures me that she is in perfect health, which backs up my theory that she is pure malevolent evil and will never die. George is lazy, massively disobedient, prone to spontaneous and unprovoked outbursts of violence, spiteful, unhygienic, devious, annoying, distrustful and aggressive towards strangers (and people she knows), greedy, mean and homophobic (probably). She is probably the worst behaved cat in the world and she seems to do it deliberately but is she actually a psychopath? Let’s find out using the Hare Test to determine Psychopathy (as it applies to our furry feline friends).

There are 20 different elements on the Hare Test which are used to characterise Psychopathic tendencies in individuals, starting with :-

  1. Glibness/Superficial Charm

According to the Hare Test, all Psychopaths are ostensibly charming individuals when you first meet them, this is how they are able to manipulate others successfully, George actually scores well on this one. Like all cats she can appear to be friendly, she’ll come up to you and rub her face on your leg and purr and when I’m sat on the sofa she’ll come and sit on me and she actually seems quite friendly but SHE JUST WANTS FOOD! That’s all that motivates her, once she realises you’re not going to feed her she will become angry and aggressive and often bitey. She’s not really clever enough to really appear friendly, her displays of affection usually just come off as creepy and weird but she probably is capable of fooling an amateur in to giving her some tuna so I’ll give her a tick for this one.

2.  Grandiose sense of self worth

Tick. She is a cat after all so was always going to score highly here.

3.  Pathological lying

Absolutely. She plays my girlfriend and I off against each other in order to get extra meals. Mrs Bad-Tripe will come home early and feed George, George knows that I know that Mrs BT doesn’t always feed her when she comes home so when I come home she will come up to me frantically meowing like she hasn’t been fed in weeks so that I feed her again! To be fair this has worked on numerous occasions so well done George but there is no doubt that she is incapable of honest behaviour, big tick for this one.

4.  Cunning/Manipulative

See above. Tick. Another example would be meowing at 4am to try and convince me that it’s time to get up and feed her, this has also worked on a few occasions.

5.  Lack of remorse or guilt

Interestingly George, like all cats, cannot be trained but she also does not respond to punitive measures. I have one of those little water sprayers that people use to give their plants a spritzing and when George is nagging me for food or meowing at 4am or scratching my sofa to bits I give her a little spray to let her know that this is naughty. All that’s happened is that she’s managed to train herself to not fear water, she knows it won’t hurt her, and although she certainly doesn’t like it, she now will not show even a flicker of emotion when I spray her and she will never let the threat of a dowsing stop her from going about her evil business, so yes a tick for this one.


I’m going to kill you one day

6.  Emotionally shallow

Definitely. George’s emotional range is basically just; hungry-sleepy-hateful.

7.  Callous/Lack of empathy

If I died, she would probably wait about 10 seconds before feasting gleefully on my corpse, so yeah, tick for this one.

8.  Failure to accept responsibility for own actions

She once pounced on my girlfriend while she was crossing the living room with a well steeped bowl of muesli. George swiped at Mrs BT’s foot, eliciting a scream and a stumble which sent the semi-firm, cement like cereal mixture flying all over the sofa and the wall. If you’ve ever tried to clean a full bowl of milk and congealed muesli off a fabric sofa you will know it’s no easy task. George just flounced off with a look that said, “Bitch should learn how to handle her bowl properly.”  The Prosecution rests.

9.  Need for stimulation/proneness to boredom

Interesting one this. I do try to play with George all the time, she particularly likes fighting and to be fair she is actually really good at catching, that’s her one skill. I flick her cuddly bunny toy with my foot and she can catch it from a surprising range of angles and distances. This doesn’t hold her interest for very long though because if I’m the one initiating the game then she just thinks it’s some sort of trick or that I’m subversively mocking her and then she disengages. George’s need for stimulation seems to manifest itself in obnoxious, attention seeking behaviour. If her requests for food have been repeatedly rebuked then she will go and start scratching the sofa or flinging her cat litter all over the room just to get a reaction. Basically she thrives on drama and she gains much more satisfaction from causing trouble and pissing me off rather than just mutually enjoyable frolics, so yeah, tick.

10.  Parasitic lifestyle

Contributes absolutely nothing to the household so yes.


This owl belongs to me now

11.  Lack of realistic long term goals

She plans to get food, but that is obviously short term. I’ve no idea what her long term goals may be but if she has any I’ll bet they’re not in the least bit realistic. Probably something along the lines of “Kill my oppressive overlords and start my own dictatorship where all my subjects must pay daily homage to me with offerings of roast chicken which is of course my favourite food.” So basically she’s living in a dream world.

12.  Impulsivity

She knows that if she attacks my girlfriend that she is in for an absolute rollicking but she literally cannot stop herself from doing it. The missus was walking with a drink once and I could actually see the cogs moving in George’s brain as she lay in wait on the rug thinking, “She’s got bare feet and she’s carrying a drink I have to swipe at her foot, I have to, but they might drown me in the shower like they’ve previously threatened, I need to swipe her foot, she’ll spill the drink, she might catch me, oh fuck I’ve done it.” Then she tried to run away but had actually moved on to the laminate wood flooring which is slippery and so as fast as her legs tried to move, she went nowhere. Then the wife threw a clothes airer at her for some reason?

13.  Irresponsibility

Yes, she’s completely irresponsible with no respect for anyone.

14.  Poor behavioural controls

Don’t think this needs any further clarification.

15.  Early behavioural problems

When I first got George, I got her from a bit of a dodgy area of Sheffield. The author is not a snob but there are certain parts of the city where it’s generally best not to venture alone but I wanted a cat so I went. I picked George because of all the cats that were there she actually seemed the most docile. When I got her home she slept for like two days and was really chilled out. Then it dawned on me that the cat sellers had been openly smoking weed in the living room when I went round so actually George was just stoned. When she eventually came round she must’ve been craving some monster munch and a cheese and onion pasty and when these weren’t forthcoming she definitely became way more of a handful. In all honesty though I think George’s early behaviour was just pretty standard kitten behaviour so I may have to let her off this one. She’s always been quite weird though.


hey you! go to the 24 hour petrol station and get me some food and rizla

16.  Juvenile Delinquency

She’s always been a bit of a delinquent and it was definitely her early teens (in cat years) where she really started to hit her stride and test the boundaries of common decency and my patience so I think this definitely applies.

17.  Revocation of conditional release

Erm…..kind of. I used to live in a top floor flat so George has always been a house cat. When I first got her I did live in a house and tried to make her go outside but she seemed to show no interest whatsoever and would just cling to the sofa like a drowninig victim on a piece of driftwood so I sacked it off. Recently I moved in to a ground floor flat and decided to let her go outside and she took to it quite well. I couldn’t believe that George was going outside and having adventures like a real cat, or so I thought. I was chatting to my neighbour who owns the basement flat downstairs (the brilliantly named, Ekow) and I said keep an eye out for my cat, to which he replied “Oh George and I are already well acquainted.” It turns out that on her first trip out she’d managed to get downstairs (squeezing through a very tight fence in the process which you wouldn’t have said was physically possible if you saw it) and entered the basement flat via the French doors. Ekow received a phonecall from his girlfriend who said she thought there was an animal in the flat. Ekow got home, looked around and couldn’t find anything so he sat down on the bed in consternation. Then, all of a sudden the bed covers moved and made a noise, lo and behold it was George!! All she’d done instead of going out and exploring the great wide world was to infiltrate the nearest bed she could find. A stand-off ensued with George having claimed the bed as her own and Ekow was unable to get her to move. Eventually he managed to get her out somehow but not without “A lot of hissing and growling.” Naturally I was mortified as, if anything is guaranteed to give your new neighbours a bad impression of you, it’s George. So I very nearly revoked her conditional release but not quite ‘cos I need her out the house.


Supervised exercise time

18.  Criminal Versatility

She’s the size of a fucking rugby ball and managed to squeeze herself through a fence gap no bigger than an iPhone, she can also leap like a salmon to get up on the kitchen counter to eat my leftover curry so yeah I’d say she is pretty versatile in her criminality. Kudos George.

19.  Many short term marital relationships

As far as I know George has never been married.

20.  Promiscuous sexual behaviour

I absolutely shudder to think.

So there you go. I think we can categorically conclude that George is indeed a certifiable psychopath and should probably be locked up in a secure institution somewhere. However, I feel that this clinical study raises more questions than it answers. Are animals aware of their own behaviour? Do they have the ability to draw distinction between right and wrong or are they operating purely on instinct? At what point does the need for survival give way to greed or self indulgent behaviour? Are all psychopaths a product of their environment or are they hardwired to behave in a certain way? Who the fuck knows. These existential dilemmas will keep for another day.

I should tell you all that I would not change George for the world, she’s the funniest animal ever and I love her dearly and do my best to care for her properly and responsibly despite never getting even so much as a crumb of gratitude from the beastly little swine. She may be a psychopath, but she’s my psychopath.







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