Ferdinand ball juggling

Ferdinand is in his box. I can hear him but I can't understand a word he's mumbling about. He's got that green bucket on his head. But I know he's been out of the bucket because he's been writing... And I paid my 50p to keep him in there! I just don’t believe a word he says, he's a confabulaytir! Just check the spelling on that confabulator. That's better. Ferdinand reckons he doesn't use spell checker...!

This is what he's written.

Mmmm a very famous flea circus director is impressed with my three ball juggling flea -perhaps he will hire her, I think it's Flora but it could be Fifi.
Maybe he'll hire the whole circus, we could be on television, the silver screen, Hollywood...

I'm a bit worried though; he reckons they have sugar in their diet- they are a bit hyper but it's me that feeds them. So there is only one conclusion to be drawn, I have Diabetes. I will go blind my hair will fall out and my balls will drop off.

I avoid vets, one look at me they forget any ailments I'm suffering - leg hanging off, ear shredded, tail broken in half- it's... "Oh look a fully intact ginger tom cat, soon sort that little problem. Nuts away...!"
"Little indeed!"

One Eyed Jack
The Meezers

Who have excellent taste and appreciate concept art and it's best.

Now this rambling of Ferdinand's is incomplete. So he's either worried about his health- he's a terrible hypochondriac- last week he thought he had malaria the week before bubonic plaque (they are all insect bitten diseases so I think his subconscious is trying to tell him something -like: get rid of the little blood suckers.
Or it's dawned on him he's not the forward thrusting ideas Smith he thought he was 'cos only two chums think the photograph idea a good one. I did tell him it was stupid but no he has to publish.

But none of this explains the flashing lights coming from his box...

Signed Dolly, editor.