Reploid enthusiast, designer, sometime teetotaler.

He’s never been eaten by a shark,
or fought a man Queensbury rules,
on tree trunk above a scorpion pit.

There sat a strange cat in a sycamore tree,
Picking his teeth and a’starin’ at me.
He swung down from his branch, all spitting and fur.
And then began jawing all sallow you see.

“Yer life is for nought, neither good nor the bad,
Will save you from death you splendiferious cad.”
Now I’ve made some mistakes, I can name quite a few,
so all of his mewling it made me quite mad.

“Look here mangy cat, I’ve give you something to rue.”
Grabbing the scruff of his neck as humans can do.
I looked straight in his eyes, and smiled back at him:
“I’m a damned strange cat too, the joke is on you.”