Spoon feed costored to the Jesuit you lawless, Anius. Welcome to the Blind By Podcast.

It's April. Everything starts getting better now. The dandelions have their arses out,

aching to be pleasure by the honey bee. The buds are sticky on the trees. The air has a sparkly clarity.

Cats are fucking, I know this because of wandering Tom Cats.

Wandering Tom Cats are once again causing trouble in my life. Tom Cats are venturing beyond their territory.

And howling and roaring to try and find a mate. But then they wander into my fucking back garden,

where I have two wild cats, who are noted, so technically they shouldn't give a shit about fucking a Tomcat.

But still, these new Tom Cats are coming into my back garden, and then my two cats are like,

who the fuck are you? Who are you to come around here shouting? We're trying to sleep.

We don't need to hear about you trying to get your whole. And then my cats and the Tom Cats fight on top of a whey-leabin,

on top of a fucking whey-leabin. Then I wake up like a traumatized Vietnam vet,

thinking someone is kicking my door in, and the next morning there's just various colors of fire.

All over my bins, the white fur from my cats, and then black fur, our orange fur from whatever Tom Cats was foolish enough to come into my back garden and start shouting.

Because I was getting kind of a nigh what my own two cats.

Thinking, how cares if a wandering Tomcat comes into the back garden looking for a mate?

Who cares, this doesn't affect either of you. Why does it need to end in a fight?

But then I got thinking, if a human behaved the way a Tomcat behaved, I'd attack him with a hammer.

Like imagine like my two cats know her.

Order, they're probably middle aged, they're bought notered, they just want food and sleep, that's it.

But the Tom Cats are like, unnotered, young male cats, mad for sex.

Imagine you're asleep in your bed, and some 20 year old G.A. player.

Lad walks into your hallway with his dick out, pacing everywhere and shouting,

...