When we took him through to Glas­gow for his last hol­i­day, it was claimed that babysit­ting Frip­per is, “scar­ier than look­ing after [my] actual baby would be”. This is true. I couldn’t have Frip­per and a baby, because the baby could never com­pete. But just because the boy pees in a potty and gets a treat every single night when going to bed (and a feast on his birth­day) and yes, we maybe checked flats we were view­ing for how hamster-manoeuverable the door­ways were, doesn’t mean he’s spoilt. It just means he lucked out so hard the day we walked into the pet shop.

Mind you, does that look like the face of a ham­ster who thinks he lucked out?