• Dead as a Dodo

    Fucking Nora! The twats are closing down my blog. It's a good job I've got Twitter to vent my spleen on. Yes, that's right, I'm on Twitter. Look me up on @mandarijjn (yes it has got two J's because some twat has already got my name.)

    I haven't posted much recently, I've been busy, shitting, eating, sleeping, more shitting, more eating, sleeping and shitting. Just the normal stuff but as you get older it's hard to slot in blogging with all that lot going off as well. Fuckin' nightmare.

    Well, thanks to all you cookies who visited my blog, made ascerbic comments and enjoyed my straight talking bollocks.

    See you about,
    Mandarijn, the swearing cat. mm3

  • 5% meat FFS!

    Nahthen, long time no see, eh?
    Anyroad, never mind, I'm here now.
    Fuck me, it's been warm ant it? I've been flopping down in the garden, too bolloxed to do anything. My favourite spot is under some orange flowered grass things.

    I had a few sneaky shits in his maize garden, thought I'd got away with it but no, the twat noticed.
    I've got to say though, it does fucking stink of shit quite bad.
    The new Felix mixture of duck & turkey is to blame. Mind it's better than that Whiskas. I mean, everyone knows cats can't digest bread or wheat or corn, so why is Whiskas 5% meat and 96% meal, whatever the fuck meal is.(yeah yeah I know, maths isn't my strong point)

    The other night I went out for my midnight slash and occasional shit and did a little exploration.
    Some twat has put bastard creosote on a fence. I mean, how the fuck was I to know? It was dark.
    Contrary to ancient legend, we can't see fuck all in the dark anymore than you can.

    I was covered in it. I stank awful, just fucking bloody awful. He got hold of me and wiped me with a wet cloth from a plastic bag with "pet wipes" written on the side. It took three wipes to clean me sufficiently for them to let me lie on my bed, well their bed actually but I commandeered it.

    So I'm a pet am I? Well fuck 'em then. I always thought I was just one of the family.

    This is me with my cat nip infused cushion. And below, having a bite to eat.



  • Cats Can Do Anything

    I rush in, after having had a shit, all excited, make a beeline for the kitchen base units where there is a loose plinth. I get my claws round the edge, a quick tug and done, one plinth on the floor. Baaahahahaha!
    Fuckin' hilarious.

    If they don't replace it and it's nippy outside, the cold wind whistles in through the vents and you should hear the bleedin' moanin'. "It's cold" "I'm freezin' to death". Soft bastards, don't know what real cold is. Take my pencil sharpener for instance, when me shit's taking longer than usual to come out and a Norwegian mistral is blowing it's minus 4 wind up me arse, now that's cold. That's freezing.

    I'm going on 12 now. I still like playing though. One of my favourite games is when they take the net curtains down for washing. They chuck 'em on the floor before they go in the washing machine and I hide under 'em, an' when they walk past I scratch their legs.

    Just popped in to let yer all know I'm still around, fartin' and a pukin'.


  • Shocking

    Happy New year.
    This is me in some cheap Argos shit.
    I'm tired so I'm not hanging about, what I've got to say might come as a shocker to some, but the new Dentabits bollocks (which I understand is to be used by F1 stockcars) is fucking brill, not too soft, just firm enough.
    I've tried it, we sprinkled it on some Felix cod and mackerel and it was really crunchy. It's doing what it should because I haven't had to have any teeth out yet. I ate a whole sachet and about 12 Dentabits in one go last night.
    All in all, Dentabits pisses all over ProPlan which I thought was as dry as a nuns fanny. ProPlan was also a hard ride as well, the last shite I had after I ate it, hurt to fuck. Me pencil sharpener isn't so big so it was like passing a bastard housebrick.
    I hope that clears that up.
    For fucks sake, they've been debating this on that Stoxnet bollocks for 12 pages now. It's not fucking rocket science. This might shock some people, but Dentabits kicks the fuck out of ProPlan. End of.
    Anyway, I'm tired, bored and it's a windy as fuck out there so I'll save me shit up for the morning dump session. It should be a big twat as well, as I've got the contents of 4 sachets in me gut waiting to be dumped. I'm farting well though, must be making room for the solids to settle, eh?
    Anyway, enough about me, I'm off to bed, fuckit.
    See yer, tossers.


  • Hello Winter

    Aye up. Hows it hanging? By 'eck, it's ages since I had a bash on here. I've been busy cataloging their eating habits on a new blog. You'll see what luxurious stuff they eat compared to the shite they give me, and I'll tell thee what, it is shite.
    When we take over the world, they'll be eating pollock & tuna (64% fish) crap like we have to out of a tacky cheap plastic sachet and we'll be eating whole fresh spit roasted mice, oak smoked grilled goldfish and sparrow au vin and shit like that. Just you see.
    Cats Can Cook
    Have a gander. It's under my real name.
    Of course you all knew Fuggit was a pseudonym didn't you?
    No? Well fuck me pink sideways, anyway the cat's out of the bag now.
    Winter's coming dammit. I hate all the cold. I'm a warm cat not a cool cat.
    Then there's Xmas and we all have to wear stupid bastard hats. Well I do anyway.
    Listen, I've got this theory, I might be right, I might be wrong, but it's this: the big shops are taking the piss out of you humans at Christmas. It's just a theory. I might be talking shite. Yeah yeah, I know, I'm just a bollockbrained cat talking like a twat. We'll be having Felix turkey with fuckin' holly leaves on the side of the box next. Maybe one of you might want to consider looking into it, you know, whether supermarkets are taking you all for
    Christmas pudding stinks rank. Rum sauce smells deadly but I love that whipped cream stuff. I recognise the noise it makes when they squirt it and most times I'm in the kitchen like shit through a goose before they've finished squirting. Unless I'm in REM. I snore sometimes in REM. And dream. I hear them talking but I'm well out of it, I hear bollocks like "look at her little paws moving". Yer know, it's fuckin' knackering dreaming about being chased by a bastard dog, I'm well bolloxed after a running dream. I hate dogs. Dogs reek worse than a Japanese tuna filleters crotch. Or so I'm told. They have this sweaty piss smell about 'em all the time. The Japanese tuna dudes that is, not dogs. Dogs stink worse than that. I'm not frightened of them though. That's what sharp pointy claws are for, dogs noses.
    Anyway, fuck you all, I'm off to the snoring pit.





  • Ratbag 2

    I've been to the vet. I was sick, I was constipated.
    The bastard stuck two needles in me on Thursday and another one on Saturday. Plus I got a thermometer up my arse.
    Yesterday I went out and managed a huge shit. I couldn't hide my excitement and started running round the house. You know how it is when you have a shit anyway but this was a fucking monster. 6 days worth of Whiskas, Felix, Go fucking Cat and God knows what else.
    The vet was quite nice, he looks a bit like William "Groundskeeper Willie" MacDougal in the Simpsons, but I am worth so much more than 60. I mean, 3 jabs and an anal intrusion.
    The photos are from a few days before when my food was backing up and my gut was beginning to hurt so I bit the twat.
    Ha ha, the dogs in the vets are stupid. They stand still and get dragged into the vet's bunker anyway, they spread their legs against the door jambs. Fucking idiots, don't they know resistance is futile?



  • Ratbag 1


    I like rugby union but not rugby league. This is me not watching Wigan and Hull this afternoon.
    Aye up, this fuckin' weather's been tozzin annit? I've been lying on 't doorstep on 't mat, it's a good place to keep me eye on me territory. AND it's easier to nip in, troff a bit of snap and nip out again.

    I've been up 't fuckin' apple tree and eucalyptus tree as well, I've never had to fanny about like this before. I must be gettin' attached to them indoors. Mind, it's mainly for food.


    What a life I lead. I'm bolloxed from doing nowt. I wanna scratch someone. I'm just in that sort of mood. I'd like to scratch the neighbour for cutting down his puke grass. I need that grass to make me puke, to help me digest the shite they feed me in "Hotel Deepcar". I'd like to scratch his face at the sides, then slash his hands. Perhaps bite his nose. Yep, I'm in a pretty violent sort of mood.

    However, sometimes I like to sleep and now is one of those moments, fuck it.

  • Warm as Toast.

    I don't like toast. I'm a cat, right? So I don't do toast.
    I like ham, sliced ham but not that Lidl smoked shite. Apparently you lot think it's bad for cats and that it gives us the shits. So! Everybody needs a bit of the shits now and again.
    Having a bit of Whiskas shit set granite hard to yer sphincter isn't fuckin' fun. I'm tellin' yer. So a bit of the loose stuff ain't too bad. Innit?

    By 'eck it's fuckin' hot innit? I'm all over the house trying to find a good cool spot to park me arse.
    I've tried all three bedrooms, the sewing box at the bottom of the stairs, the revolving leather chair in the kitchen should be perefect but fuck me, they've stuffed it with cushions AND sprayed it with something that stinks wank. I don't scratch that bastard. Don't want that hum behind me claws.
    I like to sleep between the mini cypress bush and the cherry tomato plants, right next to the cat mint so if any bastard intuder comes wandering along, I can give it a gobfull. I haven't got any fleas either. Which is good because I hate that flea stuff they stick on yer neck, it puts me right off me nosh.
    They've put another bowl of water near the door. Apparently he read some bollocks on the internet about getting cats to drink more to avoid kidney probs later on. It fuckin' works, I'm havin' a gargle every time before I go out for a slash.
    I heard the dreaded S word yesterday, you know...s h o w e r. Fuck that. Just 'cos me paws were a tad mucky.

    I'm angry. Go on then twat, ask me why I'm angry?
    Well, I'll tell yer. I don't know. Me tail's thrashing about like a cat nip leaf in a gale. And I don't know why. Apparently it means I'm angry.
    They've started buying plain food again, did I tell yer? That other shite they bought, beef & tomato, pollock & corgette, kippers & fucking custard, I mean what was all that bollocks about? I am a cat. I don't do corgette or unripe marrows or whatever they are. Come to think of it, we don't eat beef or cow as I prefer to call it. Watch my lips....they are too fucking big. Geddit? We are cats, we are small and the cow is far away. We eat mice and birds. So, begs the question: where is my fucking mouse & celery or sparrow & romanesco Felix cat food? Get a grip.
    Hang on, I'm a fully paid up member of Canin and can talk to them. They tell me how to eat, shit, scratch, fuckin' allsorts. Really handy shit. I'll email them and tell them about the mouse and celery thing.
    Anyway, I'm bolloxed. I'm off to the purrin' pit.
    See yers.....yer fuckin' tosspots.
    I'll think about yer when I'm having me next shit. >:-[

    This is a mate of mine, it's Dad's a copper. He's from Manchester. I wonder if he knows Oasis? He's from Manchester innit?




  • Snow? Where?

    Yeah, snow. It's March for fuck's sake. I had a wander, had to, was dying for a shite.
    Sometimes though, a shite can wait. I went down the steps, couldn't see fuck all at the bottom 'cos the snow was higher than me, so I came straight back up, in the house and up to bed. As they say, "Fuggit".
    I can't even be arsed to chase birds off the shed roof.
    Mind you, I had a "big tail" moment this morning. I was just moseying round the corner and this fucking big dog, the colour of a off liver, came hurtling down the drive, round the opposite corner to me and back up the drive. Never saw me, the big stupid lump of pooh. Dogs are such unintelligent wussies aren't they? Thick as two short planks, a brain the size of a walnut with the same thinking power.


  • I'm Reclining

    This is what I do. Recline.
    I'm on a mission to find the most comfortable spot in the house.
    Upstairs is fab. My new bed is okay but well, yer know, new shit takes some getting used to.
    How cool is that, me talking like a Yank. "Y'aint havin' none of my shit, 'cos I ain't got no shit".
    Heard it on TV. I sleep right next to the fuckin' TV sometimes. I have this mechanism in my ears that shuts out any bastard noise I don't like which is most of it.
    Occasionally some birds tweet, a cat miauws or a fuckin' dog thing barks. Wankers dogs.
    One had a shit next to my gate post last week, he didn't like it so he got an old sambal chilli jar with some "extra heet" chilli paste still in, filled it with water, swished it round a bit and poured it next to the gatepost. Problem solved. Them fuckin' canine shit machines don't like it up 'em. I bet they burnt their fucking noses smelling at where that piece of shit was. Soft twats.
    My bestest place at the moment is on top of the 2 seater couch.
    It's right under the standard lamp. Too bright for me.



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