Tyler arrived at the Maddhouse in April 2005. He's one of the most beautiful cats I've ever seen. But, although he looks like a beauty queen, he's a big yobbo at heart. Sprawled on his back in front of the telly is where you'll most often find him.

But when he gets bored with telly, he also enjoys a night of biff. Last Sunday was a case in point.

First he gave his teddy bear a good biffing. Then he turned to the ball-on-elastic on the top of his scratching post, which put up a slightly better fight. There were a few logs stacked up in front of the fireplace, so he gave them what for. No response.

Next he took a couple of swings at Roger Federer on the telly. Perhaps this was a step in the right direction; that fellow was clearly more in the biffing mood, but Tyler was unable to attract his attention.

Next Tyler marched up to Violetta the tiny tuxedo girl, swatted her tail and informed her (I think... I may have the translation wrong) that her mother roots chihuahuas. She just laughed at him and cursed him back. No satisfaction there.

He stomped off, kicked around his empty food bowl a bit, then knocked some dishes into the sink.

Finally I heard the sounds of feline wrestling in the hall. Orlie the ginger bloke had finally been persuaded to join in a little biff session and Tyler was a happy cat again.

After the evening's entertainment, when I headed off to bed, I leaned over to say goodnight to Tyler the yob and got a little Tyler kiss on the cheek. He may think he's a tough guy, but he can't fool me.