This may look like a set of backlit studio photos for Sa Majesté’s next Hallowe’en portrait but, in actual fact, this was another Code Ambre emergency. Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs: there was a fly in the living room again, behind the globe lamp. You can’t see the fly in these pictures but, if you ever played Spot the Ball in the 1980s, I am certain that you would be able to place the buzzy little beast with impressive accuracy via Louis Catorze’s body language.

Cat Daddy and I had settled down to binge-watch series one of Marcella when the buzzing and chattering started. Observing Catorze answered the long-standing question I had about why cats chatter at birds – or, in Catorze’s case, birds, flies and Jurassic World pterodactyls. They’re not trying to communicate at all. Catorze had the terrifying eyes of an enraged crack addict throughout the hunt, meaning one thing only: death to all winged beasties. 

There was something hypnotic about his pursuit of this fly. And the clever fly, having worked out that the globe lamp was spherical, didn’t have to try too hard to avoid being caught. All it had to do to escape the claws of doom was wander over to the other side of the world, which was against the wall and therefore inaccessible to the so-called hunter.

Our conversation went like this for much of the evening:

Cat Daddy: “Where’s the fly now?”

Me: “In Madagascar. Wait … now it’s walking across the Indian Ocean.”

[Chattering and swiping from Sa Majesté]

[Buzzing from the fly]

[Cat Daddy grabs his phone to take a picture and, at the same time, something dramatic happens on Marcella]

Cat Daddy: “Oh. I missed that. Can we rewind that bit?”

That is how a 45-minute episode of Marcella took us about 2 hours to watch. And, whilst Marcella edged closer and closer to catching the killer, Louis Catorze completely failed to catch the fly.

Next time: more excitement of a similar nature, no doubt.