I've explained to Wilson that, even with the income from his Adam Ant tribute album, we couldn't afford to keep a pony. He took this very well, considering.
I suggested that as an alternative I'd have no objection to a kitten.
"A cat?" he scorned. "Pooh! Sly, squinty-eyed mammal-torturers. I spit on cats! Never! They climb up the curtains, you know!"
"You climb up the curtains!" I pointed out.
"Exactly!" he replied with a snort, crossing his arms as though this settled everything.
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