Mae’r wasg i gyd wedi troi yn erbyn Daf y gath. Fel sbloet hysbysebu, roedd hi’n bwriadu chwydu y tu allan i neuadd lle’r oedd Jeff y gath yn rhoi araith. Mae pob sylw yn werth ei gael, wedi’r cwbl.
Ond chaeth hi mo’r cyfle i berfformio i gynulleidfa o newyddiadurwyr.
Doedd dim newyddiadurwyr y tu allan i’r neuadd.
Roedd y wasg i gyd yn gwrando ar Jeff y gath, a pharatoi i ysgrifennu penawdau disglair amdani.
“Dyma Jeff, ein darpar Brif Weinidog.”
O diar, Daf. Rwyt ti’n mynd i golli popeth.
Saesneg / English
Press
The whole press has turned against Dave the cat. As a publicity stunt, she planned to puke outside a hall where Jeff the cat was giving a speech. All publicity is good publicity, after all.
But she didn’t get chance to perform for an audience of journalists.
There were no journalists outside the hall.
The press were all listening to Jeff the cat, and preparing to write glowing headlines about her.
“This is Jeff, our future Prime Minister.”
Oh dear, Dave. You’re going to lose everything.
