Oh, Louis Catorze: you are a sweet cat, but a rubbish psychic.
Luckily he doesn’t know that he’s rubbish. He thinks he’s doing great. After the final whistle of France v Albania, he came screaming into the room, tail up, as if to say, “See? Wasn’t I just MAGNIFIQUE?” Erm, not really. But I cuddled him anyway and he purred, wafted sweet lime into my face and then trotted out, none the wiser.
So, France v Switzerland on Sunday: is there any point in a last-ditch attempt at that one? Cat Daddy says no. In fact, his very words were: “He’s shit. It’s beyond humiliating now. Please stop.”