Josh – you’re dead to me.
Sure, we’re on first name terms now, as he is with each of the five hundred-strong audience all also called [indeterminate shouting noise].
Sure, he’s witty, brilliant, and has the particular form of genius required for simultaneously amusing and wrangling six hundred school-children (kindly brought here today by the Santander International Schools Programme).
Sure, his poems are pitched perfectly in that space between playful and silly and educational.
Joshua Siegal doesn’t “particularly” like cats.
You had us on your side until that point, “Josh”. With your Tibetan dog words, your funny explanation of the dietary habits and travel plans of zombies, your impressions (angry chicken, angry gorilla, angry.. erm.. starfish) – we were there, right there with you. We lapped it all up. Roared and howled and squeaked with laughter.
So why do it, “Josh”? It didn’t have to be like this. You could have pretended. After all, you managed to do a spot-on love-rap to the glories of eating chicken EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE A VEGETARIAN. Why couldn’t you just pretend to like cats? Even just a little bit?
Still, fame is no respecter of not-being-a-cat-hating-monster and despite his obvious flaw (which, strangely, I seem to have been the only one to notice in amongst this crowd of chortling children). I suspect that he will go on to ascend great heights just like his inspiration Michael Rosen (quick shout out for “No breathing in class”). Maybe Children’s Laureate one day (just saying).
He’s got the talent. Just not the correct attitude towards cats.