Le Roi coûte cher: vive Le Roi!

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Today is the first day of my half term break, and so far it’s all been about Louis Catorze. Firstly, the little sod woke us at 4am by hollering in our ears and bounding all over us, killing off any dreams of a holiday lie-in. Then we had to take an early trip to the sorting office to collect a parcel containing his flea medication. And, finally, we had to stop off at Cat Daddy’s work, where an impossibly huge 12-tonne sack of Acana Pacifica cat food awaited us.

“This is getting bloody ridiculous,” Cat Daddy muttered, as he hauled the massive sack into the boot of the car. “Our sleep is now shot to shit because of that cat. And look at all this stuff. Who’d have thought, when he was born, that he’d end up living a life of luxury and having food flown in from Canada? How much did this cost, anyway?”

Oh. Ahem.

“One of the girls at work gets that James Wellbeloved stuff sent to the office, and it costs £20 for a bag this size. Please tell me it didn’t cost £20?”

I sincerely swear that it didn’t cost £20.

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