The Kitty Committee

“Brothers and sisters…

… take your seats for now is the time.

We three cats of the kitty committee hereby wish to speak to you about the joys of what you are missing by not being a part of our collective.

The first life was born in the seas. Through evolution, through great patience and time, they sprouted legs and set forth onto land. They changed gills to lungs. They swapped fins for paws. They grew fur to protect themselves from the harsh weather and the cruel landscapes.

What our ancestors did for us, without knowing it, was create a world full of life. Now we must embrace what we have been given.

Friends, whatever persuasion you may be, we wish you all to join the kitty committee. We promote frequent naps, frequent feeding and all the petting you may require.

If this sounds like the life for you then sign up now.

Chips

Pouring Beans is the natural home of democracy. In years gone by we have witnessed landmark votes on key issues that have set the agenda for a generation to come: subjects like meat, socks and playground rides.

Today’s vote is the big one. History calls us. It is time to decide, once and for all, the best kind of chips.

You can, and will, choose one of the following. Or another one if there’s any I’ve missed out.

Chip shop chips
Chunky chips
French fries
Oven chips
Crinkle-cut chips
Triple-cooked skin-on chips
Dirty chips
Those chips you sometimes get in pubs that are sort of wide and flat
Chocolate chips
CHiPs

DEPLOY!

The price of Ian’s face

What is Ian’s face worth to you? I wonder if you can even put a figure on it.

I can. Today I learned the exact monetary value of Ian’s face when I went to my local sorting office to collect a mysterious item. It turned out it was a letter sent by Ian’s attorney at law, Nicholas Wolfwood, explaining that he was not going to remove his face and send it to me. He hoped that three signed photocopies of Ian’s face, enclosed with the letter, would do instead.

Unfortunately, Ian’s attorney at law, Nicholas Wolfwood, is a cheapskate who had cut a stamp off another envelope and sellotaped it onto this one so that he didn’t have to actually pay for the postage. The Royal Mail is wise to these tricks, which is why they didn’t push it through my letterbox, and instead they put a yellow sticker on it that said NO POSTAGE PAID and I found a grey card telling me to go get it. When I presented myself at the sorting office, I had to pay £2 – that’s two London pounds – to get hold of it.

Whether or not you think I got value for money out of my two hard earned pounds is a matter of opinion. Whether you think Mr. Wolfwood should have coughed up at least 55p for a second class stamp rather than have me pay nearly four times that for the privilege of receiving his letter is up to you. But one thing is for sure. I now know with some certainty that the value of Ian’s face is about 66p, because I got three of them for two quid.

Report from Bournemouth

This week, my boss sent me to Bournemouth to attend two days of a big meeting where lots of people who all like yellow things came to spend time in each others’ company and talk about what they would do if people who like yellow things were in charge of everything.

I had never been to Bournemouth before, so I thought it would be useful if I presented my findings here for the enrichment of all Beans readers.

The brick

Recently I moved into a new flat, as described earlier. It’s nice. It’s got bedrooms and a kitchen and a balcony and some toilets and all that sort of thing.

Next to the front door, out in the hallway, it’s got a brick.

The brick is painted yellow.

The brick is mounted on canvas.

The brick is inside a perspex display case.

When you look down the hall, every flat has a yellow brick in a perspex display case to the left of the front door. We asked the landlord (who owns the building) why this might be the case. They said they weren’t sure, and they said it might be an artistic thing, and they said they think the flat number might be painted on it.

The flat number isn’t painted on it.

It’s just a brick.