Wednesday, 29 May 2013

Important Announcement!

I have a very serious announcement to make that will affect you all. It will shape your lives and influence all decisions you make in the future.

No, it’s not about flippen zombies! I have given you zombies! What more can I do for you in that regard! Blimey, you’re so freaking ungrateful!

No. This is about me. It’s always about me, this is my blog. My little vent hole – through which I haven’t been venting much bile recently, it’s been building up! It’ll burst out soon! All over your faces!!!! HAHA! You’ll like that.

That was not the announcement either. 

Nor is it about the Colchester Comedy Workshop showcase on Saturday, and how well it went and how I have taken this long to recover from the experience of going on stage in some sort of desolate wasteland, with faces looking at me, while I was tied up with tin cans.

It’s ok – I got through the performance by consuming a vat of black coffee and a small keg of something described only as ‘Monster’.

I’m also not going to tell you about how well the showing of ‘Parkwick Sports Day’ went. About how it was on a wonky ship and the bit between the audience and the screen was a corridor that was constantly in use, and when the public wandered in looking lost and forlorn, they were all surprised that they would have to walk in front of a film.

Some just proudly strode through in a sort of ‘I’m a parent! I’m the most important thing on the planet so sod you all!’ way. Others gave a sort of sheepish look and then did a funny walk, clearly embarrassed about their body mass blocking the screen, but not actually doing anything about it except feeling shame. That’s helpful.

A teeny, tiny, minute few, one, maybe two, people actually worked out that they could walk around the back of the projector and not disturb anyone at all, but clearly only a very small percentage of people either care enough, or have the brain capacity to understand how a projector works.

Although I will say that one child tried to walk behind the projector, but was furiously pulled in front of it by a self-important Parent (they are so important that we have to give them a capital letter). The only thing that helped me get through that screening was the sure and certain hope that the child in question will grow up to despise his stupid and self-important, idiotic, spittoon of a progenitor when they finally have the mental and physical capacity to ‘rebel’.

Generally teenage rebellion is not a rebellion; it is simply an awakening to the idiocy of parenthood. After all, even in the best possible circumstances, becoming a parent has to be the ultimate in desperate, lazy, fall back options. Everything else in your life has come to nothing, so you decide to breed in the vain hope that your offspring will achieve all that you haven’t. They won’t. They will follow your fetid and lazy path to its inevitable deathly climax and eventually the human race will peter out and as the last living person stares at the blinding sun and thinks back to all the greatness that humanity has achieved, the basic ability to reproduce probably won’t be the one thing that stands out.

“For flip’s sake! What is your announcement!?”

Oh, yeah: I got into Uni. WOOT.

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