We’re somewhere around Bletchley, on the edge of Milton Keynes, when the drugs begin to take hold.

I say something like: “It’s my fault. I should never have let you drive.” Suddenly, there’s a terrible roar all around us, as my fellow traveller, catnip coursing through her furry little body, loses control of the car, which was going a hundred miles an hour towards Pinewood Studios with the top down.

Luckily, we’re hopelessly lost on a country road, so there’s not much to hit as we slide to a halt. Next to me, an airbag is gently popped by a claw. I sit there, dazed and confused, as though time’s standing still. I wonder if I’ve made the right call. I think about what made me make that call. I think about Squirrel With A Gun.

Squirrel With A Gun – SWAG for short – is a video game in which you play as a squirrel with a gun. Is there much more to it than that pretty cool, central premise? The short answer is no. The slightly less short answer is not really, no. The long answer is maybe, depending on who you are.

From the moment you fire up the game, you’ll be playing as a squirrel, and doing things with guns. Your first pistol is gifted to you by a tripping guard as soon as you exit the opening room, and from there on, you’ll be jumping from uzis and shotguns, to the likes of grenade launchers are RPGs. You use them to fight agents, the mysterious men-in-black whose s**t list you’ve ended up on, and do some platforming in order to grab acorns and other goodies.

Once you’re out the underground bunker you start off in, there’s an open-world to explore, which begins as a cosy little suburban neighbourhood, and gradually has some extra areas opened up and added to it as you progress. Aside from the couple of boss fights and sections that open up these areas, you’re usually running around much like you would in a Goat Simulator or an Untitled Goose Game, interacting with different locations and scenarios in order to earn golden and bronze acorns, which you’ll need to unlock spawning points for guns and vehicles.

While it’s arguably a bit unfair to compare these little missions to those in Goat Simulator 3, the most recent of this fun ‘animal runs around and causes chaos’ genre that’s become a thing, in terms of complexity and polish, a lot of them do feel a bit like slightly lesser imitations of the stuff you’d do in that game. The same applies to the little outfits you collect for your squirrel, and even the process of fighting a tank. Here’s the thing though, when it’s not doing things that mirror the likes of Goat Sim, Squirrel With A Gun is great fun.

There are limitations to things like the combat with the agents, but the game comes into its own when it’s being what the Squirrel With A Gun-themed parody of a Bond theme that plays every time you hit the main menu suggests it wants to be. It’s about the action. The zipping about, bouncing around and screaming around the streets. It’s about climbing up trees and flagpoles, then jumping off into a gang of agents below, and somehow managing to ping around underfoot fast enough to avoid their fire, crawl up onto their shoulders, and snap their necks.

It’s about slowing time so you can try and perform a mid-air driveby with a sniper rifle, because you saw a big gun while you were jumping between a floating bouncy castle and a platform with a massive slide attached, and couldn’t resist swapping out your uzi. It’s about firing an RPG into the ground with your bomb suit equipped and being flung headlong into the air as your squirrel squeals like a GTA protagonist who’s just accidentally strolled out of a helicopter because someone pressed the wrong button.

It’s about some animals being incredibly silly little folks that’re also basically secret agents. And to be honest, I’m not sure it quite revels in that as much as it could have in its short runtime – which is perfectly fine by the way, a game like this shouldn’t be a 60 hour slog. It’s at its best when it’s convincing me that my cat will be the next James Bond.

After all, her fur makes her look like she’s wearing a little tuxedo, she’s fussy about how things are served, and she can move like a ninja. She can find a way to teleport herself out of rooms with shut doors that Harry Houdini would get trapped in. She can climb anything. She can run along rooftops. She can land on her feet from any height. She can speak politely. She’s the very embodiment of privilege. She can – and will – kill you.

Back in the car, I come to. We’re on the road, and the cat has the engine purring away. In the rear view mirror I catch a glimpse of her little yellow eyes. She still looks a little naive, despite being simultaneously three and 28 years old at the same time. I’m not sure if she’s ready for the cutthroat nature of being an actor, but I have faith.

I’ve got faith that as soon as they hand her the first prop pistol as part of her audition, Sean Connery, Roger Moore, and Daniel Craig will all eat their hearts out.