Wednesday, 17 October 2012

They have found a new way to torment me.

There is no satisfaction to be had anymore, even the little bit of satisfaction juice I used to squeeze out dribble by oozing dribble, has been whisked away from me.

No one
No longer can I be rude to startled Filipinos.

No longer can I slam down the phone three words into a recorded message.

No.

Oh no.

They have taken it all away and replaced it with… silence.

As if to torment me! As if to mock me and my silent room in my silent house! 

An attention seeker confined to a self imposed solitary box and tormented, not with noise, not with people or with foolishness that I can mock and throw sticks at.

I am tormented by no one!

“By no one!?” I hear you ask, as if suggesting that by being tormented by no one, implies I am not tormented at all. (Although I think there may be a Cyclops who would understand! Har Har Har de Har Har)

No! My friends, my precious little friends looking at my faceless blog and sucking up my words like little truffle pig vacuum cleaners, NO!

I am tormented by the very presence of no one: of silence. The phone rings, but no one is there!

Damn them! Curse them! A pox on them!

To rid me of this plague I have buried a box of earth beneath a sycamore tree, inside the box of earth is a hex written in the blood of an ox on a piece of parchment, this hex was chanted as I buried this box by the light of the moon and shall be repeated henceforth one lunar month from now.

I also complained to Ofcom.

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