In this YouTube reading, Lois Letchford narrates a passage from Anne Fine’s children’s novel Killer Cat’s Christmas, specifically Chapter 11 titled “Showers of Falling Food.” The story is told from the cat’s first‑person perspective as it sneaks into the house on Christmas Day. The cat discovers a turkey already prepared for the oven, then watches the children unwrap presents that have lost their identifying labels because the cat’s tail knocked them off. The lack of labels sparks confusion and arguments among the family about who each gift belongs to. A scuffle erupts when Lancelot tries to reclaim a present, and the carpet is lifted, revealing the scattered labels and a few stray hairs from the cat’s tail, leading the family to blame the cat. As the cat attempts to flee, the mother enters carrying a large plate of tiny tarts and other festive foods, which then cascade onto the floor in a “shower of falling food.” The cat manages to escape amidst the chaos, reflecting on its luck and the absurdity of the situation.
Chapters
Lois Letchford reading from Anne Fiennes' Killer Cats Christmas, chapter 11, Showers of Falling Food. While I was looking for a way back in, the grown-ups must have cleared away the breakfast things and started to prepare for Christmas lunch. By the time I'd found the only bedroom window that was unlatched and squeezed inside, the turkey was already stuffed. And trussed and sitting forlornly in its tray, waiting to go in the oven. I ask you, honestly! They all go on and on about the way I chase sparrows, but I would never treat a bird like that. Hypocrites! Anyhow, once I was safe— it was safely in the oven out of my reach— the 4 of them went through to the front room to join the children and unwrap the presents. I had forgotten about the labels my tail had accidentally flicked away, Out of sight under the cup. Uh-oh! The trouble started almost at once. Who is this gift for? It doesn't say! This one doesn't have a label. Neither does this one, or this! I couldn't help but look a bit uncomfortable. I hadn't realised I'd flicked off so many. The children root around, lifted their heads and wailed. We've looked at all the presents, but not one What are we going to do? We'll simply have to guess. That didn't work too well, and arguments broke out all over. I think this one is probably for me. Oh dear, I think Santa bought that one for Lucilla. That said Lucilla. But I don't want it, Mummy. I like this present much better. That one was meant for Ellie. How do you know? I just do, dear. You can't read Santa's mind! Neither can you! We were a little short on Christmas cheer. Then a scuffle started when Lancelot tried to snatch back a present that Ellie's father said was not for him. The carpet rucked up underneath his shoe, And there they were, all of the labels, and one or two telltale ginger hairs off my tail. Aha! cried Ellie's father. Everyone turned to look at me. I turned to look at the door. I don't think it was my fault that just at that moment that I fled towards it, Ellie's mother was coming in carrying a giant plate of tiny tarts and titbits and fancy little things on sticks. I just think I was lucky that in the shower of falling flue, I managed to get clean away.