You know that saying, the one about the best laid plans of mice and men? Oh good, you do. Only that bothers me. Why on earth do mice need to plan? What are they planning?
I've always suspected cats of having an agenda, I mean, those whiskery faces are just designed for putting together a good plot, cover story and eventual disassociation with all those caught. But what on earth can mice have to plan? I know cheese doesn't steal itself but it's hardly a lifetime's work.
So why did Robbie Burns write about the plans of mice? What did he know? And now he's dead. Well not now, obviously, I mean it happened a long time ago, but isn't that just a way of deflecting suspicion? How, exactly, did he die and did anyone see the body?
Yeah, you think it looks cute now, you wait until it's coming at you with an Uzi and four tonnes of plastic explosive, demanding that you open the safe. They're financing the operation somehow...
And, now you come to mention it, I've never trusted rabbits either.
Festival of Romantic Fiction Shortlisting! - Goodness me. I am still recovering from the exciting news that Doubting Abbey has been shortlisted for the Festival of Romantic Fiction's Best E-book award...
23 minutes ago