Today, I discovered it's not safe to carry an unexploded cat downstairs just as some heavy handed idiot, in the shape of a meter reader, ignores the bell-push and tries to knock the door off its hinges. I spent over half an hour in front of a mirror repairing the damage where frightened pussy cat tried to claw and bite her way up my face and over my head and I still look like I've tried to shave with a cheese grater.
The cat, of course, is unharmed.
With any luck, it'll be months before the electric company discover the body!
I guess its just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.