It’s War!

The drawbridge is officially up in this domicile. One of us has to go and it aint gonna be me!

As dear old Pepys sat by his candle beetling away at his diary did he realise how many chappies would delve into his old mems and get a shuftie at his most intimates of intimates?

“Well” thinks I “Why not expose myself in a similar vein and give the blighters a taste of life in the old 2000s?”

Naturally I do not pretend to hold the same place on high as old Pepys but I am sure that sometime in the future an idle cove or two might find it jolly to find out how it all was in simpler times.

Today, for example, I have decided to go to war. It seems quite the thing at the moment with the American Pres bombarding the internet with explosive tweets and Kim Jong-Un flinging off ballistic missiles like bridal bouquets all over the Japanese sea.

I have gone to the most ridiculous lengths to maintain peace and short of giving up Poland I could not have done more to avoid slaughter.

But enough is enough.

I espied the enemy in the midst of taking the very food out of my own cake hole and I was far from chuffed. In fact I was fuming.

There he was, as bold as brass, chowing down in the last piece of Devil’s Food Cake that I had particularly reserved for myself. “Here’s cheek!” thought I and the dastard had then the temerity to scoot off in amongst the clean cups on the dish drainer and turn his beady eye upon me.

I am ashamed to say that still I hesitated to launch my attack and the little menace toddled off behind the wine decanters and launched himself to safety behind the stove.

Have I not tried my best to humanely relocate this illegal alien for the last three weeks; replenishing time and again the perfectly capacious “big cheese” containment unit with the most attractive and tempting viands.

Did I not endlessly reposition my defenses to take into account his latest movements? I did. But to no avail, for this ungrateful blighter has taken not the slightest interest.

Only yesterday I was trying to fling myself into the arms of Morpheus when I heard him by my very bedside, rummaging about behind a superior copy of an old dutch still life with not the slightest regard for a chappy craving a few hard earned snores.

So I have hardened my heart and reached into the dustier recesses of my linen cupboard to retrieve my arsenal.

No more pacifism! No more appeasement! Certain forces in the world must be stopped and mice are one of them!

Even now, in the midst of this very post I can hear certain rattlings that show the impudent cove has already made his move. But, I have set hair triggers on all of the traps and If I don’t find him dead in the morning I shall be seriously disappointed.

Not only have I no Devil’s Food Cake to enjoy, but I will also have to rewash all of my china and we all know how bad constant washing is for fine gilding.

C’est la guerre! Mouse!