Andy Richardson: Confined to the cellar while fat cats steal the limelight
And so it’s official. Today is the final Man Column from the man whose out-of-date photograph makes him resemble someone who still has a full head of hair, a waistline that didn’t grow by two inches and a smile that says ‘I’m faking this, James. Take the flipping picture and let me get back to writing about Skunk Anansie.’
As BoZo learned this week, there are plots and then there are pork pies.
Or, in my case, there are cats and there are sachets of Iams.
Kim Manners of Lanark – yes, Lanark, in flipping Scotland – has jumped aboard the Sack Richardson bandwagon as cats plot my demise.
Not content with securing 786 likes for a picture of, erm, sniffing the air, our home-loving, bird-killing pooches have muscled in on the day job.
And Kim, from Lanark, ML11, thinks it’s a hoot.
Having sent a slew of pictures of fat cats, I realise my days are numbered.
Next week, a picture of a cat named Itchy will adorn the nation’s leading provincial newspaper as it tells you, dear reader, of its likes and dislikes, its whimsical stories of life and its penchant for really expensive food.
I, sadly, will be tied to a chair in an underground basement muffling the words ‘Help, Help’, while nobody listens.
Like the falling tree in a forest that doesn’t make a sound, I’ll be forgotten about as Itchy – 786 likes, yeah – will rail against the wonder of wrens, will explain how to torture a mouse before killing the petrified thing and what they really get up to while ‘their human’ is fast asleep.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
It’s odd, isn’t it, that you can imagine rare moments of – I wanted to use the word brilliance, but instead I’ll settle for competence – and then a picture of a cat blows you out of the water.
Though I suppose it could be worse. At least it’s not an energy-saving life bulb.
A former editor, let’s call him Carl – because that’s his real name and his mother-in-law reads dutifully every week – enjoyed a high-flying career on these here pages.
Travelling to red carpet movie premieres in the West End, flying out with the Jet Set at A-List shindigs in the South of France and dispatching his then-troops to do their own version of Top Gear across parts of the West Midlands, his was a career hallmarked by excellence.
Having ascended to such lofty heights as BBC 1’s The One Show, you’d have imagined he’d have been venerated for his contribution to regional journalism, but no.
He will only ever be remembered for energy-saving light bulbs.
Though there are some with long enough memories who’ll also recall his dislike of over-cooked steaks and his eating of humble pie when a chef finally got it right. But I digress.
An unexpected rant about the fact it took his energy-saving light bulb more than 10 seconds to warm up and why couldn’t we just sacrifice a few polar bears and stick with the old carbon-eating versions was the moment he went viral.
The mail sack bulged like Santa’s on December 24. Maureen and Derek, Vivian and Dave, Blaze – I made that up – and Tania all get out their best Bic biros to agree with the features consigliere.
Having devoted his life to films and middle management, the man we’re covertly describing as Carl found himself the pin-up boy for Osram Dulux.
It may have been at that point that he decided to throw in the towel and sail into the sunset for a sometimes-quieter life among the sand dunes of North Wales. Who can say.
When Boris ‘The Jester’ Johnson was interviewed at the start of the week by someone from Sky – and whoever coined that phrase ‘a week is a long time in politics’ wasn’t joking – he was asked whether PartyGate was his Barnard Castle moment.
I know what the interviewer meant. Fat Cats is mine.
Having attracted pictures of cats on chaise lounges and sofas from as far afield as Lanark – and, of course, from much closer too – it’s time to pass the baton to Itchy.
And if you do hear a muffled groan from a cellar, please don’t ignore it.