Moral

The lunching hour makes me melancholy, so out of sheer bordom I visit the supermarket to buy things I'll never eat, read or play with. And as I fill my car up with cheap Tiwanese consumer goods and salad, I feel the gloom close in around me. On exiting the car park I notice the music playing isn't familiar to me, and nor is the fluffy dice hanging off the rear view mirror. Infact this isn't my car at all, but it seems to be taking me somwere under it's own control.

It takes me past my bedsit, over the flyover and into the smartest area of town, and pulls up outside a beautiful detatched mansion house with perfectly trimmed hedges and neatly dug, flower filled boarders. Just then, the front door of the property swings open, and two georgeous little kids run towards me yelling "Daddy, Daddy" and throw their arms around me, kissing me and looking adoringly at me with their big brown eyes. Then a woman appears at the door, a "Way out of my league" type, and says "Did you get everything love". I nod, and she gives me a lingering kiss with her perfect lips.

When inside, and the kids are tucked up in their beds, she serves me the most amazing three course meal with the finest wines, whilst wearing only a French maids outfit. And afterwards she takes me upstairs and we have the most incredibly mind-blowing, almost spiritual sexual experience. Later on, when she is sleeping soundly, I sneek out of the front door, and walk home in the pouring rain. When home I pour myself a large drink and sit staring into space for a while, and then I curl up into a ball and cry myself to sleep.

Lawn

It becomes horribly apparent whilst out pushing my newborn around the estate, that everyone of my neighbours has a better lawn than me. I walk down every road and avenue for miles and every house has a beautifully striped lawn as oppose to the cabbage patch I seem to have acquired. This really winds me up, so I devise a plan.

I hire in a team of four hundred gardeners, and divide them into teams of five, then I give each of the eighty teams a project manager. We are to strike in the early hours when all the Kia Rio owners are snoring away dreaming about having slightly better lawns than me. At 3AM we set to work, digging up and destroying every single garden within a four mile radius, which I find, I wont lie to you, rather theraputic.

When I return home, I marvel at how much prettier my lawn looks than theirs, stupid shits. Within three hours however, the Police have somehow worked out that I'm responsible, and arrive to arrest me, and as I'm dragged out of my house and through the baying mob of residents, I again revel in the kudos of having the best garden on the whole block. My life now seems somehow more complete.

Halloween

There's a knock at the door and I open it to find some suspiciously older looking children "Trick or treat" they yell. "How old are you lot" I say. "Fifteen Mister" comes the reply. So I put away my sweetie tray and hand them a six pack of special brew, Four WKD, a tray of eggs and a bag of flour so they can terrorise the neighbourhood, but mainly so they don't kick my worthless head in.

   Skips and practical jokes

I take delivery of my brand new Golf R32, fucking beautiful car with all the bells and whistles. When I return from my first outing I stand in the living room with a cup of tea admiring it from the window, fucking beautiful. Just then I see a truck delivering a skip to the neighbouring property. The skip guy seems to be taking an unnecessary and foolhardy risk by swinging the damn thing over the R32.

Next thing, the chain only snaps and the skip comes crashing down atop of my brand new fucking beautiful car, turning it into the convertible I couldn't quite stretch to. My twitching heart sinks into my bollocks. I immediately go outside and begin remonstrating with the skip operative, I go absolutely Ape shit and begin threatening him with serious violence.

Next thing I look around and see Jeremy Beadle walking down the road towards me, I crack up laughing and nearly piss my pants. I wonder which one of my friends or family has set me up for this hilariously heart stopping practical joke. But Beadle walks straight past me and into the Newsagents. Turns out he's got absolutly nothing to do with this and has always lived in the next street to me,  I'd just never seen the cack-handed prick before. I again threaten the skip operative with serious violence.

Mirth-meister and all round prick, Jeremy Beadle.

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