The musings of Doctor Marcus Burkenhare.

"So I'll give you your 'free speech society'. Anyone can say anything without fear of repercussion. Before you've finished patting yourself on the back for being so progressive, I've started rumours that you're nothing more than a lying, cheating dirtbag unfit to hold office in a sweet shop, let alone government, while at the same time insisting that I am the one to be trusted on all counts at all times.
With that established, I proceed to further demolish any reputation you may ever have had, turned society itself not only against you but against all you ever believed in, forging the people into a massive blunt tool with which I shall depose you and install myself as ultimate leader in perpetuum.
And when that is done, I turn the tables on the very people who put me there, reversing any good works you may have done and putting the entirety of human civilisation under my thrall as little more than my personal plaything. By splitting society into ever-smaller cliques I ensure that everyone is in-fighting against one another and no genuine resistance shall ever be found to my tyranny.
Billions suffer and it's all your fault - why? Because you insisted I could have total freedom of speech.
Pah, freedom is over-rated. Give me a benevolent dictatorship anyday."

How Did A Kitten Get To Be Called 'Puppy'?

I'd like to take a few minutes out to explain something. As anyone who knows me knows, I have cats. A lot of cats, if five can be considered a lot. There's Suki, the Old Girl (we can't be entirely sure but pretty certain she's somewhere in the region of twenty-three years old), Harry the Bruiser (the inspiration for my short story 'Biscuit The Dreamcatcher'), Shady the Shae-Shae, we may never know exactly what happened to her tail, but I'll tell the tale (pun intended) sometime. Then there's the little ones - Ozzie the Dude (it's official - the vet said so) and Gizzie the Puppy.

Puppy? Yes. But she's a kitten. Yes.

It all dates back to one evening: I was sat in the lounge, the wife was at work and I was - as usual - on Twitter. Someone had posted a short film of some cute puppies doing cute puppy things. I watched the video, laughed and aloud said the words "Aw, puppy."

Across the room, from behind the curtain, I heard a little 'mew?'.

Looking up, I said the word again. "Puppy?"

Again; "Mew?" There was a definite questioning tone to it, as if it were saying "Yes? What do you want?"

Once more, this time a little more definite. "Puppy!"

Gizzie's little black-and-white fluffy head popped out from behind the curtain. "Mew!" She leapt off the windowsill, crossed the room and jumped up on the sofa next to me.

"So your name's 'Puppy' now is it?"

"Mew!" She replied.

So from that day on we've always referred to her as 'Puppy', or sometimes 'Puppy-Kitten'.

True story.