Why do I need Satan to give me charcoal biscuits every evening?

Your question raises a number of complex issues, Bruce. In order to unpack the whole of your question, I must lay it out for you in a way in which you may be able mentally to digest my counsel with the same relish that you digest the charcoal biscuits you crave.

First there is the question of ‘need’. We must be clear whether your ‘need’ relates to the relative importance to you of the fact that Satan is normally the distributor of your biscuits or whether it is the biscuits themselves that you ‘need’. In other words the question arises as to whether you are comfortable taking the biscuits from another hand?

In the latter case, your question essentially resolves around issues of addiction. In the former case the issue becomes one concerning the nature of your relationship to Satan.

The second issue raised by your question is how charcoal biscuits have come to be identified as your particular delicacy. There is perhaps some symbolism in their dark appearance that contrasts with paler symbolic wafer bread. Is there an element of satanic ritual in their appearance, hence your obligation to receive this delicacy from Satan himself? Enquiries reveal that here you may rest easy, in that the choice of charcoal biscuits has little to do with devil worship and much more to do with the important ability of charcoal to alleviate intestinal conditions that produce smelly wind.

Finally there is the issue of timing. Dogs cannot tell the hour but they can tell the time and recognise pattern. So can The Mommy. I am told that when Satan and The Mommy have betimes finished the first course of their frugal supper, you have learnt to stir from your teatime slumber and to go sit in a winsome manner at Satan’s chair and snort meaningfully. The Mommy then jumps up and goes to the shed to get your charcoal biscuits. In this respect you have trained her well.

Satan on the other hand is less easily fooled. He tells me he has witnessed you going to his chair when other people have been seated there. He says you have then gobbled the charcoal biscuits from other hands – most notably from a Chaplain to The Queen – in a bizarre parody of greed-crazed communion.

So what are we to conclude from your question? I counsel a period of reflection during which you contemplate why it should be that both The Mommy and Satan are happy for you to receive a regular measure of charcoal biscuits in addition to the copious quantities of tuna and biscuit you scarf at teatime.