The Adventures of Reza Shadey

Story 195: Reza Shadey and the Great Catford Snub

Okay, snuggle down tight, little ones.

Let me tell you about the afternoon Reza Shadey discovered that Catford had been catastrophically overlooked by the world's leading experts in urban liveability.

At least, that was how Reza saw it.

To Mrs Higgins it was a perfectly ordinary Tuesday afternoon.

The sun shone through the conservatory windows. The washing machine hummed contentedly in the utility room. A blackbird was having a vigorous argument with a sparrow in the garden.

And Reza Shadey was lying across his velvet cushion like a Persian emperor who had recently conquered several small countries and was already planning the next ones.

Mrs Higgins sat nearby, listening to the radio while sorting a pile of socks.

"…and Copenhagen has once again taken the top position in this year's world's most liveable cities survey", said the smooth BBC voice. "Vienna and Melbourne also feature prominently, with the report praising public transport, green spaces and cultural amenities…"

Reza's eyes opened. Slowly. Then he sat bolt upright.

"Copenhagen?" he yowled, staring at the radio as though it had personally insulted his shareholders. "Vienna? MELBOURNE?"

He sprang from his cushion and began pacing the carpet.

"Mrs Higgins, this is an outrage. The rankings are compromised. They have failed to include a critical measurement category."

"What's the matter?" said Mrs Higgins, not looking up from her socks.

"Feline executive wellbeing."

"Of course it is." Mrs Higgins smiled. "Oh, come on, you silly sausage."

There it was. The terrible phrase. Reza, naturally, interpreted it as unconditional executive confidence.

"Thank you", he replied with a solemn chirp. "For confirming that you remain aligned with the corporate vision."

Reza marched towards the conservatory door.

"If international institutions refuse to recognise Catford's greatness, we shall create our own evidence. A live demonstration of superior local performance."

"Are you going outside to chase pigeons?"

"To gather operational intelligence."

And with that, Reza Shadey launched Project Catford Ascendant.

Twenty minutes later an emergency board meeting was underway beneath the weeping willow. Penelope sat neatly on a fence post. Ginger Tom was inspecting an empty crisp packet. Tiger was chasing a leaf, which continued without him.

Reza stood on a wooden crate, wobbling slightly.

"Board members. We face a reputational crisis of unprecedented scale. Global experts have assessed the world's most liveable cities and somehow failed to identify Catford."

Penelope sighed. "Rezzi…"

"This is serious, Penelope. Catford is my operational headquarters."

"You live in Mrs Higgins's house."

"Precisely. Premium headquarters."

Reza turned back to the board. "Our mission is simple. We shall make Catford so spectacularly liveable that no international survey can possibly ignore us."

Tiger's eyes widened. "That's sick. Can we build a rollercoaster? A water slide? A giant catapult?"

"No. No. Potentially."

Penelope closed her eyes. "Please don't."

Reza pointed at each board member in turn. "Penelope, diplomacy. Ginger Tom, culinary innovation. Tiger, dynamic green spaces."

Tiger's mouth dropped open. "Bro. Dynamic. Green. Spaces." He grinned. "Say less."

By lunchtime, Catford had changed. Well — the garden had changed, which in Reza's mind was essentially the same thing.

Ginger Tom had established a restaurant beside the patio, consisting of two empty tins, one fish wrapper and a twig sign reading LE BISTRO DE BIN.

"Five-star dining", he announced.

"It lacks premium positioning", said Reza.

"Mate, it's a bin."

"It's got salmon on it."

"Excellent."

Meanwhile Tiger had taken responsibility for the green spaces by digging up three petunias. Then five. Then most of the flower bed.

Penelope stared at the enormous hole. "Those were Mrs Higgins's petunias. She planted them yesterday."

"It's a biodiverse micro-meadow", Reza replied. "It demonstrates her admirable commitment to rapid environmental iteration."

"We are still", Reza announced, surveying the wreckage of the flower bed with enormous satisfaction, "lacking a transport system. A liveable city moves."

Penelope looked wary. "Reza. No."

"This requires proper consultancy." Reza's eyes drifted towards the shed. "Tom. Fetch Sinan. Tell him it's strategic."

Some time later Ginger Tom returned with Sinan the Raccoon, who had apparently been conducting important market research behind the recycling bins.

"Procurement emergency", said Reza. "Transport-grade assets."

Sinan considered this, then vanished beneath the shed and re-emerged dragging a battered toy skateboard and a small battery-powered drone, already tied together with a length of string.

"Skateboard's from a hedge. Drone's from the recycling. Only works if you hit it."

"Perfectly aligned with our agile innovation philosophy. Payment?"

"Half a pouch of Salmon Supreme."

"Quarter."

"Half."

"Done."

Sinan pocketed his fee and disappeared back under the shed, business concluded.

That was when Shah Fluffybutt appeared on the garden wall, as elegantly as if chauffeured there.

"I heard rumours", he said, surveying the flower bed, the bin restaurant and the string-bound skateboard, "that Catford had produced a competitor to my luxury lifestyle portfolio. This is… rustic."

"You are just about to witness the future of urban transport."

"I shall watch from here. Somewhere clean."

Reza stood proudly on the skateboard, the string gripped in his teeth. Penelope looked horrified. Tiger looked delighted.

"Board members, this is zero-emission, low-cost, scalable transport. Commence propulsion."

Tiger reached for the remote.

"Wait", said Penelope, "Low speed only!"

Tiger considered this. Then he pressed the biggest button.

"Maximum vibes!"

The drone screamed. The skateboard shot forward. Reza vanished in a blur — torn across the lawn, through the micro-meadow, over a flower pot, past a watering can, gathering a magnificent wave of wet soil — before launching clean off the patio edge. Reza flew backwards into the grass. The skateboard, freed of its cargo, sailed on alone and smashed into the garden wall directly beneath Shah, flinging its cargo of soil straight up and over him in one glorious arc.

There was a resounding SPLAT.

Silence.

"My coat", said Shah, soil dripping from his ears. "This is bespoke. It is ruined."

Reza sat up, extracted a petunia from his own fur and considered the scene with great satisfaction.

"Interesting. You have just participated in our live environmental stress test. The demonstration has successfully identified a vulnerability in your luxury mud-repellent system."

Shah opened his mouth, closed it, and marched back along the wall. "I hate this garden."

Ginger Tom looked at the remains of Le Bistro de Bin.

"Still counts as a successful launch. We got a celebrity review."

The drone fell out of the apple tree. CLONK.

Penelope climbed down from the fence post. "Rezzi. Did any of that actually work?"

Reza surveyed the wrecked skateboard, the ruined flower bed, the muddy lawn and the remains of Le Bistro de Bin.

"Of course. We have established a premium dining venue, developed an innovative transport system, created a biodiverse ecological zone, and successfully repelled a hostile luxury competitor."

Penelope looked at the garden. "Mrs Higgins is going to notice."

Reza froze. For the first time that afternoon, genuine fear appeared in his golden eyes.

The back door opened. Mrs Higgins looked at the flower bed, the mud, the drone, the skateboard, the sign reading LE BISTRO DE BIN. Then she looked at her Persian cat, soil still clinging to his whiskers.

"Reza Shadey!" she gasped, striding across the lawn. "What on earth have you done to this garden, you naughty, silly sausage? Look at my petunias! Look at the state of you!"

Reza attempted a dignified explanation. "Mrs Higgins, this was a carefully controlled—"

"Straight inside with you, right now, and no treats until this mess is sorted."

She scooped him up, rather more firmly than usual, and marched him towards the door, muttering about mud on the patio the entire way. Reza dangled from her arms in stunned silence, whiskers drooping.

Behind her, Penelope, Ginger Tom and Tiger surveyed the wreckage.

"Reckon that went well?" said Tiger.

"Not remotely", said Penelope.

By the time the door clicked shut, however, Reza had already recovered his composure.

"A rigorous facilities audit", he informed the empty hallway, "was precisely what this operation required."

And that, little ones, is how Catford became the world's first unofficial boutique municipality. It was never officially recognised. It was never entered into any international survey. And nobody quite understood what the liveability criteria were supposed to be.

But Reza Shadey remained completely satisfied.

After all, if the experts could not see that Catford was the greatest place on Earth, then clearly…

the experts needed better experts.

A very important message from Mrs Higgins:
"Never tie your toys to a drone and try to ride it, darlings — not even for science. Leave the flying to the birds and the bumping into walls to Reza."

Night night. Sleep tight.