If this cat came and sat on my bed, I think I'd encourage it to move, possibly by using strategically-placed tuna on other people's beds. And then lock my door behind it.
I was chatting to a mate today about the right-to-die debate that is going on. We agreed that there needs to be some sort of government quango set up to manage it, headed by a Death Czar. And he should orbit the Earth.
One of the unpublished letters to the Telegraph in my birthday book made me laugh out loud:
"Try not to get stuck behind Satan in the Post Office queue. The Devil takes many forms."
I wish, I wish I'd thought of that.