We went for breakfast at London’s only cat cafe

London’s first cat cafe at last opened in March.

There are seven week long waiting lists for those who want to visit ‘Lady Dinah’s Cat Emporium’ during prime hours.

That needn’t be a problem, however, if you don’t have a job or anything better to do than ride the Central Line at rush hour – as appointments are available at 9am most mornings.

We headed to this holy grail of hipsterdom and see what all the fuss is about.

You can reach the RSPCA on 0300 123 0716

Despite our high expectations, breakfast at Lady Dinah’s Cat Emporium proved to be a rather silly and at times traumatic experience for us – two plucky freshers with drastically different feelings towards the cat species.

In case you’re wondering, Laura hates the little bastards.

Erm

The lurid pastel-coloured exterior of Lady Dinah’s Cat Emporium fails to prepare you for the frankly bizarre Starbucks-Narnia hybrid behind it.

Lady Dinah doesn’t even exist, which, if anything, was reassuring. You’d have to be seriously unhinged to invite people to dine in and around fluffy balls of joy/ringworm.

Regardless of whether you love or hate cats, though, the cat cafe will do nothing but disappoint you and leave you wishing you’d gone to your 9am instead.

The rescue cats in the cafe were self-righteous, unresponsive divas -the posed portraits of themselves hung in gilded frames on the walls can’t be good for their egos.

Deal with it

There is no doubt about the hierarchy: cats get right of way on the stairs, first call on seats and essentially limitless boundaries. This is of course only when they do decide to make an appearance, as the majority of the ten strong cat crew did not grace us with their presence.

Our dreams of fawning cats crawling over us as we reclined, vying for our affection as we poured flat whites and macaroons into our faces and sang ‘Colours of the Wind’  proved disappointingly unrealistic.

It’s all about the cats. It’s cat heaven, and sitting there awkwardly made us wonder why they bother with humans at all.

Toys abound, strewn around the sitting areas of the eclectic diners with a giant hamster wheel as the centre attraction.

As we eagerly stared at this piece-de-resistance, waiting for a fun-loving cat to show it a good time, it became clear the docile animals didn’t give a shit about our demands.

There grew a sad air of dejection, much like an abandoned theme park.

After half an hour of trying, we managed to capture the attention of Loki who entertained seven equally desperate adults as she chased feathers around our feet aimlessly.

Mixed reactions followed; cat-lovers ooh-ed and aah-ed at the majestic movements of the feline, whilst others begrudged the small beast and wondered how this place had ever passed a hygiene test.

When brushes laden with fluff are thrown onto the table next to your scone, you can see where they’re coming from.

Out of the blue, the tranquil atmosphere of the cat haven was ripped apart.

Petra suddenly broke her journey meandering though chair legs and ran across the room for a tactical pounce on the unsuspecting Carbonelle, innocently playing with a toy mouse.

Before we knew it, we were the audience of a real cat fight.

All the breakfasters in what had now become a lions den gasped in horror; one husband, who clearly had only come along to keep domestic peace, blurted out a nervous laugh, whilst the wife exclaimed “It’s not funny!”.

The cats ran between the legs of guests, jumping on chairs and glaring into each other’s eyes. Some spectators got out cameras, some looked abit freaked out.

As we desperately wondered how calm would be reinstalled in the cafe, our eyes darted around urgently in search for staff to calm this gladiator battle.

Alas, of course, the staff stood back: they can’t risk fucking about with the cats’ fragile ecosystem.

If they want to sleep, they shall sleep. If they want to play, they shall play. And if they want to fight – well, then they shall fight.

For now, Lady Dinah’s is Sparta.

Regardless of age, race and gender, cats are unbiased in their contempt for human affection. For the small entrance price of £5, this lack of love could be yours too.