Philip’s Diary #1

March 19, 2009

This and every one of my blog posts is dedicated to the memory of my friend Philip. It is also dedicated to tracking down his brutal and vicious killer. His one time pet cat, Beetroot. In 2008 Philip’s death was declared suicide, but myself and a number of Philip’s friends refused to accept this. When I saw the suicide note, my suspicions we’re only heightened. I’m not an expert on handwriting, but having known Philip for over ten years, I had this nagging feeling that this was written by someone else (view suicide note). I just can’t prove it yet. Beetroot was Philip’s pet cat for the last four years of his life. When they found his body, Beetroot was missing. In Philip’s will, he left me his diaries and there are some very telling entries, snap shots of his life with Beetroot…

January 12th 2007
The cat shat in my flat. My cat, my cat is a twat. (He was quite poetic, which makes it even more tragic) I hate this cat. He’s sleeping now so I must be quick. If he hears me scribbling in here, he will come after me and… do things. I never noticed how spacious this closet was. I think I might spend more time in here… away from him.

Last night we stayed in. I tried to go out, but he made me stay in. He wanted to sit on my tummy. But when I shifted to get comfortable, he dug his claw into my cheek and told me to sit on the floor. All we do anymore is watch TV. He loves American drama series. Especially The Wire and The Shield. He said that he would have loved to be a cop in America but that my stupid face ruined his chances. I didn’t quite understand what he meant.

He sits, that’s what he does. He watches TV, rating it. He especially loves to watch live television. He loves to see mistakes made by cameramen. He raises his eyes to heaven when the presenter is unsure what to do and looks off camera for help. He also makes me rent DVDs of films that he knows have large numbers of continuity errors. He visits websites. He’s even got books like ‘Movie Mistakes 2’ and ‘Hollywood’s Biggest Cock-Ups’ 2. They’re all sequels. He says books like that don’t gain enough momentum until the second edition. He sits and he smirks and he scoffs and he ‘tsks’ and he shakes his fat little head, watching inexperienced presenters on cable channels. Later he’ll go on the forums and slag people off. Once he videoed me on the toilet and posted it on YouTube, ‘so cats in Argentina could laugh at me’ he said. I really hate my cat.

My cat, my cat is a twat. When we go for a drive he takes note of prices on petrol station signs and shakes his head. “That was cheaper last week. God they think we must be maniacs if they think we’ll pay that, but were not manias, are we Philip?” said my cat to me. He insists that we drive out of town to get cheaper petrol but when I point out that the petrol wasted in the drive there and back would render it pointless… he just stares straight ahead and doesn’t say a word. I ask him is he alright and he says he’s fine. I know he’s not really. I can’t bare it. He acts all high and mighty, like he’s got it all figured out, like he’s better than me. Well at least I didn’t shit on the mat. The cat shat on the mat in my flat – and I cleaned it up. Fuck you cat!


…Not Also, But Only


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