The other night, my neighbour across the hall heard me talking to the cats. I'm sure she heard me clear as a bell because I heard her unlock her front door and it was so loud, I thought she was coming into my apartment. I was saying, in a high-pitched syrupy tone, "Who's being wicked? Who's wicked? There's great wickedness afoot here! Oooooh, wicked! Such wickedness!"
It's almost as bad as this daily "exchange" between me and a certain grey-striped cat, delivered in a normal tone of voice: "Harry, get out of the closet. You don't belong in the closet. Stop playing with Mummy's shoes. Harry - leave those shoes alone. Get out of the closet. Out of the closet! Out!"