After the fuss of last night, I am looking for a quiet day today. Michel Platini iscoming over for a celebratory lunch, and I must stock up on provisions. I get in the car and reverse out of the drive.
CLUNK.
Zut! I have hit something. I get out to investigate. I see my next-door neighbour running towards me; instinct takes over. I hurl myself to the ground and start crying.
"Oh my God, oh my God...Tiddles! Tiddles!," shouts the woman. "You've run over my cat, you ********."
I walk round the back of the car. I shrug, in that charming and insouciant way that I have. Sure enough, there is a little cat there. He is as flat as Arsenal's play after my departure.
"Maybe I did run over your cat," I say. "But I am not a traffic light."
The woman is crying now. I put my finger to my lips, then shake it in her face, as if to say "no, no, no" - for I do not see why I should take responsibility for what I have done, just because I have done it.
Is it my fault that the cat is made of soft tissue and blood, rather than, for instance, reinforced steel or concrete? Of course not.
I did what anyone would do: I pressed my foot on the accelerator - this causes more oxygen to flow through the carburettor, and makes the car move. The cat did not see me, the cat bounced off my bumper and I drove on. I am not an RSPCA inspector.
Was it deliberate? It is not for me to say if something I have done is deliberate. I am reversing a car out of my drive, not an adult human being with free will.
I am considering apologising to the neighbour when Michel Platini pulls up in his Renault Clio.
"Nicole!" he shouts.
"Papa!" I say, which is a little joke we have and for which we get 150,000 Euros each per month for making occasionally on TV and whatnot. It is a short career and you never know when Gillette might get tired of you.
"This man just ran over my cat," says the neighbour.
"Have you got it on video?" asks Michel.
"Of course I haven't got it on video - are you mental?" says the woman.
"Never happened then, did it?" says Platini.
Just for safety's sake, he gets back in his car and reverses over the corpse of the cat.
"Thank God she doesn't have a video," he laughs. "Her cat is gone, and we are still here - and that's better for everyone worldwide. Vive La France!"