It's quite libellous in my opinion.

Blob's gone and done it again! Written a load of rhyming claptrap in an attempt to impress but this time its all about me.

Before you read such libellous rubbish, I want to point out the following:

I have no limp;

I have all my toes;

The hole in my ear healed up;

The kink in my tail straightened out after the anti-biotics.

I will admit that my habits are sometimes questionable, but lets face it I'm a cat!

My Mate Bob

My mate Bob

Is a big, black cat.

He’s hard and mean

And he’s nearly fat,

But I don’t love him

Less for that.

My mate Bob

Goes out at night.

He likes a drink

And he likes a fight.

He’s got a hole

In his left ear.

But I don’t love him

Less, I fear.

My mate Bob

Goes hunting mice

He plays then kills,

It’s not that nice.

He leaves their blood

On the kitchen floor

But I don’t love him

Less or more.

My mate Bob

Likes chasing cars,

He arm wrestles

In grotty bars.

He has a limp

Where he lost a toe

But I don’t love him

Less you know.

My mate Bob

Isn’t soft or sweet,

He hangs about

On the dangerous streets.

His neck is bald

And his tail is kinked

But I don’t love him

Less I think.

Oh my mate Bob

Is big and mean.

His temper’s bad

And his habits ain’t clean

But he purrs as he

Curls up on my bed.

I couldn’t love him

More! ‘Nuff said.

Like I said, absolute twaddle!

Bob