I had a mental cat once. Pissed over the bed and forced me to clean up after it. Threw up in my fridge for a laugh. Attacked children. Ate the heads off all of my Barbie dolls. Drank heavily and knocked me about when it felt lonely or like I was going to leave. Got a tattoo with the words “HATE LOVE’ spiked into its forehead when travelling through Asia on the back of a car it built by sticking together the bodies of forty dead mice.
I was going to call my cat Bastard. Instead, I called it Legend. I called it Legend sarcastically.
Ronnie Biggs spent 30 years skint wandering around Brazil begging for alcohol; like a massively shit George Best.
But he was mostly like my mental cat, was Ronnie.
They were both far greater bastards than they will ever be true legends.