BOSSY

With one bound, the cat sprang - straight up. Clawing its way sinuously to the top of the five-year-old nylon antique lace curtains, handed down from Granny Bert, it slipped easily out of the open window and into the gathering dusk, never to be seen again.

BOSSY breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Now we can write whatever the f*** we want," she declared happily.