The room I was waiting in was very comfy, though the seats were not: the proportions were all wrong so that I really had to stretch to rest my arms on the armrests. There was a gentle hum of the air-conditioning coming from a man who was repairing it. "Why are you humming like the air-conditioning?" I asked. He explained that if people could hear the cool air, they would assume that the room was cool, and so nobody would complain. I was about to argue that this would never work, but I had suddenly started sweating and was glad when he turned his humming back on.

There was a lady sat behind a desk filing her nails. She was just closing the drawer for her nails when the telephone on her desk rang, and she answered it. After a few quick words that I could not hear, she put the phone down and spoke to me with some that I could. "You can go in now", she said.

As I entered my lawyer's office, I was immediately shocked to see the man removing his wig. The wig was short and black, with a slight bald spot at the back. As he removed it, the long white hair of a court barrister was revealed. "You can't walk around outside of work with hair like this," he explained, "people come up to you as you walk along the road and ask for advice. I don't want to get in trouble for solicitoring on street corners". I sat down opposite him at his desk, and read the certificates on the wall: the first showed that the man was fully qualified, the second showed that he could swim 1.6 kilometres. I was glad I had found a man who was willing to go that extra mile.

"What can I do for you today?" he asked me as I sat down opposite him.

"I'd like to be legally separated from my cat," I said.

"I see," he replied. "Can I ask why?"

"The relationship is very destructive," I answered, "For instance, last night I'm convinced I caught it messing with the dials on my oven, trying to undercook my dinner. I responded by overcooking his cat food until it had all evaporated."

"This is highly unusual, you understand," my lawyer said, "have you considered trying to go your separate ways without going through the courts?"

"I can't seem to get rid of him." I answered, "I tried moving home, but he hid in the medicine cabinet all the way there. The morning after the move, I went to the bathroom for a shave, and I found him covered in Elastoplast, trying to get his paws around a child safety cap to replace my aspirins with a packet of extra strong mints".

"That seems very intelligent for a cat," the lawyer commented.

"I didn't think so," I said, "he's not a child anymore."

"Very well", my lawyer said, "I'll take your case."

For the court date, I wore my favourite suit: spades. The cat and I had originally agreed to come separately, so we booked two different taxis. The day before the trial, the two taxis merged together when one rear-ended the other at a T-junction, so we ended up sharing that. I almost took the train, but it was delayed because the new driver had previously worked for an airline company and was currently circling the train-station until someone gave him permission to come up to the platform. The cat and I had stopped speaking after he had received his summons by fax: the shared journey was distinctly frosty, as the heater was playing up. As I walked up the stairs into the old building, my lawyer covered my head with his coat to stop the press taking too many photographs. On that day, there were no press about, though a Japanese family on holiday in the area did get a couple of quick snaps of me wandering slowly in the wrong direction, completely unable to see while my lawyer went to buy the cat a cup of coffee.

The trial began when we were asked to rise for the Judge. I think I did best, making it a good six inches off the floor. "This court is now in session, and will begin with Man versus Cat," said the court clerk over the PA system.

"Why does he do it over the PA system?" I whispered to my lawyer. "He gets nervous in front of a audience," he replied. "Isn't that a bit of a problem for his job?" I asked. "It's even worse for his West End musical career," he pointed out.

The proceedings opened with my lawyer going through the case: I was claiming that the cat had caused me significant emotional and mental distress, and loss of earnings. "Loss of earnings?" the judge asked. "Yes, your honour," I replied, "and he wouldn't tell me where he put them." The judge asked if I hoped for punitative damages. I said I was fairly optimistic I could get more than that. Halfway through, the judge ordered something be stricken from the record. I have no idea what it was.

To finish my case, I was asked to give testimony to the court. I said I hadn't brought enough for everyone. "Order!" said the clerk over the tannoy, so I ordered six extra testimonies, which came within thirty minutes, so I had to pay.

After we had concluded our argument, I was sure the cat would come to me on all fours. After all, he was a cat. However, the creature remained remarkably cool. He finished posing for the court artist who had given up on the usual pastels and was experimenting with bright vibrant colours and sweeping strokes, and slowly padded across to the witness stand. The cat stood on top of the stand and looked out over the courtroom with large puppy-dog eyes. Puppy-dog eyes! Where had he found those? In his defence, he succinctly argued: "Maowww", before falling off the stand, and landing on his back and his feet.

"This cat is ill," pronounced the judge, "he's under-fed and dehydrated and suffering from acute exhaustion". "There's nothing cute about exhaustion. Anyway, how can you can tell that just from looking?" I asked. "I am an excellent judge," said the judge. "He's not ill, he just winked," I said. "Cats don't wink," the judge said.

"It's all for show. Look, now he's got up and has gone for a walk," I said.

"That doesn't sound like a show I'd be interested in watching," replied the judge. "What is more, I find Man guilty of mistreating Cat, and I will issue a restraining order. You are not permitted to go more than 200 metres away from this cat at any time."

"Move to object!" I cried.

"Denied," he responded.

"Move to reconsider!" I called out.

"Denied," he informed me.

"Move for retrial!" I argued.

"I feel you are just going through the motions at this point. Court is adjourned."

The house was warm when I let us in, and before I made the cat some dinner, I turned the humming right up.