A Very Reverential Dilemna

Little Miss PussyGirl had been in Socratic thought mode for some time now.

It was true, life had dealt her some harsh blows, yet she had survived them all and with a certain aplomb she liked to think. She understood the philosophy here, and was keen to make it work for her - that with every experience, while she knew more, her disposition to know less increased, as did her capacity for disappointment and happiness in equal measure.

She had, effectively, leaned heavily on her own catholic upbringing to assimilate the hard knocks and thought she understood, in a slightly pious way, that all these life events and choices served to build character and give you a whole load of anecdotes on which to dine out.

It was a very ordinary winter's night when her religion was tested to the very core and her mother's values about those of the non catholic apostolic bent were corroborated.

After a jaunt to a Private View with a work colleague, Miss PussyGirl was a little the worse for wear having hoovered up the free pink champagne on offer whilst commenting on the contextual reference of the large and slightly disturbing canvases she had seen before her.
She was impressed with Art and all things arty - since working in the field, she had discovered her own inner artist - piss artist mainly - and took her out to the regular private exhibition views where she performed admirably.

Once out in the cold night air, PG and her alter arty ego realised that some kind of remedy might be necessary should she wish to make the journey home without so much as a drunken wobble. And so the hatched her plan to visit the Burger King at the station and down a few non alcoholic drinks in order to restore her natural balance.

"So far, so good," she thought , as she sipped delicately on her drink through the red striped straw. "One more of these and I will be ready to head home with the guarantee of not a trace of a hangover tomorrow."

He tapped her on the shoulder and peered into her slightly bleary eyes "Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?"

"What, erm, no, why?"

"Because I think you are, and I would like to take you out for dinner Miss Pussyness, please can I have your number?"

"Hmmmmm, well to tell you the truth, I am not what you might call compus mentus, so no. Not really. And another thing, I don't give my number to strangers."

"OK," the slightly overweight man of average height and build replied, "can I at least give you my card?"

PussyGirl thought for a while and then agreed. A card is a card and that way he might bugger off sooner. It wasn't that she liked or disliked him, she was too merry to really care and just wanted to get her train back to PussyMansions.

"Here you are, please call me! You are quite lovely and I would be delighted to take you to dinner sweet kitten."

"Never reject an act of kindness, " she remembered from her darker days, and took the card obligingly.

Some weeks later, PussyGirl was listening to her usual morning radio programme when SmugPresenterPerson introduced the Soundbite of the Day:-

"And now, for some thoughts on Lenten abstinence, we move to the Reverend Most Religious PussyLover....."

PG stopped in her tracks and dashed to the fridge, pulling the card out from underneath the ginger cat magnet.

"OHMYYYYYYYYYGOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDD! It's him. The smarmy fucker - and he a Reverend to boot. Well I never!"

Still, he is on national radio and he did take a liking to me," mused the feline wonder.

His talk was well delivered, if a tad dull. In his best Sunday School teacher tones he preached about the virtue of abstinence and self restraint and how, in these credit crunch times, it could only help us to ride out the financial maelstrom.

PussyGirl wondered what to do - this was, after all, a coup of some note and she could not let it pass unmarked.

"Dear Reverend,

Thank you for your enlightening views on abstinence today.
Interesting that you don't appear to practice what you preach.

Still, it was lovely to meet you.

I hope you and the family are well and maybe see you next time you are on the pull, in pursuit of slightly pissed pussygirls.

Yours soberly,

PussyGirl"

He responded almost immediately;

"Dear PussyGirl,

Thank you for your kind words.

Yes, I think we were both a little pissed.

Yours,

Reverend PussyLover"

Oh dear! Smarmy was the right word, and he was backpedalling so fast it was ridiculous;

"Reverend,

Speak for yourself you pagan priest!

Not yours,

PussyGirl"


Socrates was right, and so was her mother. The more you know, the less you know and never trust a man of the cloth who can take a wife.......