LONDON - WAKE UP AND SMELL THE CAT SHIT!

Guess what? One of the most expensive coffee brands in the world is called Civet. It
sells for an insane £183 a pound. What makes it so special, so desirable? Well, the
beans are passed through an Indonesian wild cat called a civet. By “passed through” we
mean eaten, digested, then shat out whole. Then they’re put in a fancy package and sold to
pretentious coffee drinkers with far too much money. According to Ben Fowler, senior buyer at Civet’s UK
distributors: “The average consumer is
someone looking for a rare and unique gift, wanting to
obtain a luxury product, or someone who loves
exploring interesting and unusual types of coffee.
Someone bored by Starbucks.” We were pretty bored by Starbucks so we dispatched
the intern to Selfridges and spent a day drinking catcrapped
cawfee. This is what went down.

Hour 1
The stuff turned up in a 57-gram vacuum-sealed bag
which sells for £24. Although the blurb says that Civet
shit-beans “make a great cappuccino”, we decided not
to sully it with milk and went whole hog for a cafetiere
of the stuff. We even skipped the sugar. The cafetiere
yielded two cups of the feline faecal brew.
It tasted exactly like any other Americano at any
average high street coffee house. No poop vibes
whatsoever on the palate. There was an almost
immediate sense of slight euphoria and my heart was
going like I’d necked a whole wrap of gutter speed.

Hours 2 and 3
After the initial body shock, I proceeded more
cautiously. I don’t know where the whole caffeineheightening
concentration myth came from but by this
point I was totally zoning out and by cup four my
computer screen resembled a Magic Eye puzzle. I’d also
developed a chronic case of the runs.

Hours 4, 5 and 6
As I loaded up the third cafetiere I was having flashbacks
to stuffing the bowl of a bong with skunk way past the
point you knew was sensible. It was the end of the bag
so I pressed on despite serious hand tremors, a back
sticky with sweat, my piss stinking of coffee and one of
those uncontrollably shaky legs. I think my right eye was
also palpitating in time with my fluttering heartbeat. As I
drained the dregs I felt totally wrecked.

Aftermath
Having finished six cups, I headed out to a show and
drank a few pints, nothing major. I suddenly found
myself craving junk food. After my fill of hot wings
from the 24-hour chicken place in Mile End, I woke up
to what felt like a hernia in my head, stabbing pains in
my heart and lungs and the urge to puke and crap
ceaselessly. This nauseous hell continued for the whole
day. It sucked. Steer clear of cat-shit coffee. There’s
nothing classy about spending all day on the crapper.

BRUNO NATAL