I have just taken out future ownership of a kitten, by the name of Gammo Speng. It all came about through the unreliability of men.
An evening round at Vicky's spent bemoaning the fact that all the decent looking guys in the world were about as reliable as a Paul Burrell court appearance. One guy in particula who Vicky was close to, had decided to suddenly disappear for 2 months only to resurface this week. We had thought he might have been a spy, or had some Hiro style space/time incident, to explain his disappearance, but no. Anyway the conversation soon gave way to a mix of vodka (diet coke on my part), disappointing take away kebabs, and cruising satellite radio stations looking for sad, soppy late night love songs, via seemingly endless religious broadcasts of various denominations and passions (check out Rainbow radio for some amazingly loud shouting).
At one point, for no particular reason I announced that I was thinking of getting a cat. Like some low rent Vegas magician, Vicky suddenly produced a kitten from nowhere (well the kitchen actually). I had no idea that one of the three transient cats that live in her house had given birth. Indeed Vix wasn't sure which was the mother. She now suspects that Carl the cat may actually be Carlotta the cat. Anyway to the title of this post. We needed to christen this cutest of kittens. Looking up at the telly the fantastic name Gammo Speng was plastered across. Apparently he is a Reggae DJ on Galaxy radio. Anyway the deal was sealed and fate had decreed that the kitten would be named Gammo Speng.