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Hunter takes on the snow. The snow wins.

Because this is what happens to your brain when you spend an entire week at home playing Assassin's Creed 2 and hugging cats.

Pictured: a personable but slightly dim creature with impressively fluffy hair, left, and my cat Hunter.*

One of the great benefits of the internet is being able to keep in touch with political developments as they happen – whether they be the pre budget report or, yesterday morning, a GLA plenary session on transport policy. One of the great annoyances of life, on the other hand, is listening to Boris 'bendy buses kill more cyclists'** Johnson and his ass-backward opinions on the various merits of public transport.

In fact, listening to Boris on public transport (the only time you'll see those four words together outside a photo opportunity right there, folks) is, as I realised, as frustrating as watching a cat attempt to operate a washing machine. And substantially less cute.

It's not even a matter of failed election promises, although a quick glance back through his transport manifesto does produce some gems – "halting the proposed Tube ticket office closures", anyone? – because, after all, Boris wasn't elected on the basis of his what he planned to do. He was elected because London's suburban voters recognised him as that funny bloke with the floppy hair off the telly. Personality over policies.

And on that note, meet Hunter.

Hunter is one of my two cats***. Like Boris, he has a mop of fluffy hair and, like Boris, he is either a little bit dumb or, very possibly, an evil genius simply pretending to be that way in order to ingratiate himself with fools. Like Boris he has no sensible policies on any issue facing London or Londoners, but has a few irrational dislikes (bin bags) and prejudices (Whiskas, not Felix) and knows how to play to his audience.

Hunter has not, however, published racist drivel, or, for that matter, written any of the same. Nor has he offended the people of Liverpool.

And so, assuming Boris stands again in 2012, I'd like Hunter to run for Mayor of London. In order to officially enter he'll need 330 signatories from around the city, which could be tricky, and a £10,000 deposit, which is frankly never going to happen. Which is a shame, because he could probably do a better job. Should you care to back him, there is what I believe constitutes a "Interweb 3.11 for Workgroups social media twampaign", or something like that, on Twitter here: #VOTEHUNTERFORMAYOR.

Notes:

* Photo by Adam Procter, CC licensed, original here.

** Fans of statistics may be interested to note that no they really really fucking do not.

*** His brother, Ralph H Cat, Esq, has no interest in provincial politics and intends to seize power as evil overlord of the universe sometime next April.

On a happier note, I've now finished testing Panasonic's DMC-GF1 – both written and video reviews will be online shortly. Will pop links up here, but in the meantime, here's Ralph taking a good look at the 20mm f/1.7 pancake lens.

Edit – video review is online here.

Because it's amazing what you can get done when you should be writing about Windows 7.

By way of an introduction, here's a very incomplete list of things I like:

• Cats
• Ramen

Armed with this information, you can probably see why a cartoon series called Neko Ramen (noodle-soup-cat – often transliterated to 'neko rahmen', with an 'h', for some reason) appeals to me. And it is quite wonderful. Here's episode one, courtesy of a website that allows embedding – the subtitles are a bit crap, but you get the idea:

Helen snapped (what's the moving-picture equivalent of snapping?) this video of Hunter on a camcorder I'm reviewing, and I've found myself entranced by Hunter's CRAZY BIG EYES. For the full effect, watch it in splendiferous 1080i* High Def here on Vimeo.

Sorry about the weirdy crap cut at the end, by the way. It appears to be a side effect of the rather cheap video editing software included with the camera (and I've lost my copy of Premiere, sob).

* I know, I know. It can't do 720p for some reason.

Two-cats-per-basket cold.