Cat + Bin = Medicine?

The dopey cow who thought it would be a good idea to sling that cat into a wheelie bin has been charged today. And rightly so, says I. There isn't really any justification for doing something quite as retarded as that, despite her cast-iron excuse that it was a 'joke'. Bearing in mind she checked both ways before doing it, and clearly didn't realise she was on CCTV at the time, it seems unlikely she was trying to draw too much comedy from it, especially when you consider that she didn't actually tell anyone about it, thus missing out on the inevitable bragging rights such a clever piece of japery guarantees.

As you might imagine, I find the lady in question to be a bit of a dick-end. You don't expect such behaviour from a middle-aged person, and you can bet your bollocks (top ones if you're a bird) that if a similar level of offence had befallen her (like pushing her owl into a wheelbarrow), she would have kicked off, dragging the local constabulary in to feel someone's collar and/or hit them with a truncheon. Presumably.

What really gets on my gears though is her lame-arse excuse-mongering in court. Recall my brilliantly-argued blog recently, where I decried the attitude of 'celebrities' when caught with their pants down. Instead of holding their hands up to their wrongdoing, they witter on about how sorry they are and how much of a nightmare it's been pummelling some buxom wench into next week in a TravelLodge. While I can never truly say I would have anything approaching respect for Ronan Keating, if he'd just said "To be sure I'm sorry about the old adultery thing there. Tis a fair cop" at least I would consider him a realistic, if slightly wanky, human being. But when they start wheeling out these ridiculous reasons to justify their actions, it raises my ire like you wouldn't believe.

Anyway, the point I'm labouring is that this woman claimed she was in a state of stress at the time of CatBinSlingGate (TM) because her father was gravely ill. Now, if your old man's under the weather, I can totally understand you feeling sad, but I'm struggling to find the correlation between paternal illness and feline disposal. Why didn't she just say "Yeah, I'm a bit mental to be fair. I thought it would be a gag to lob the moggy in the bin, although right now I'm finding it hard to fully justify it"? Instead it's all "Woe is me, me Dad's poorly. If only there was some way to make him feel better involving next door's cat and a wheelie bin..."