I’m hungry. I know this because all my card and joke ideas start to become food related. I press on even though my brain and belly are saying “Cheeses Christ just get me something to eat I’m bacon you!” If people could hear what I think, I would be put in the nut house…mmmmm nuts. I love all the nuts, the peanut, pistachio, the cashew but my all time favourite nut is the dough…and that was the cheese straw that broke the camels back.
I head for the kitchen. 10 minutes later I’m sitting in the front room with a sandwich made with left over chicken from a Sunday dinner I cooked on Monday, with stuffing and a nice chutney. The chutney was a unopened Christmas treat (it taste just like Branston but comes in a posh jar that I will end up cleaning paint brushes in). Also a sweet cup of tea. I’ve been having sweeteners in my tea for years now, to help me with my sugar addiction. I use it like a heroin addict uses methadone to help kick the habit. It stops me buying those small sachets you get in a cafe or in your hotel room from a dodgy looking guy in a hoodie through the half opened window of his BMW.
(5 minutes earlier) I shake the little red sweetener container – there’s no familiar rattle just an empty silence. I Iook at the small ceramic barrel with the word sugar emblazoned upon it. (5 minutes later) Like an addict removing the band from his arm I feel the first wave of sweet pleasure hit me. Four sugars…it’s like drinking a tea infused treacle pudding! An instant high.
I switch on the TV. The announcer is telling me not to miss Loose Woman later, as today they will be talking about complex and challenging world affairs with celebrity six-pack Peter Andre. The only way I wouldn’t want to miss that is from a bell tower with a high powered rifle!
I put on Judge Judy instead.
I love Judge Judy because sometimes you can see that look in her eye that she gets when she would love to place that small square of black material on her head and say “You shall be taken to the place from whence you came, and from there be taken to a place of execution. You shall be hung by the neck until you are less stupid…may God have mercy on your soul.” Gasps from the gallery as the accused is dragged from the dock kicking and screaming “Ok Ok I’ll pay my half of the utilities!!!!!”
But the first thing I see when I turn over is a small African girl carrying a big container to a dirty water hole with a celebrity voice I recognise but can’t quite put a name to. He’s telling me how she walks for miles and miles to collect water that will probably make her ill. And with a small monthly payment I could help build a well (I would happily help them build a well but my DIY skills barely equip me to put up a shelf). They seem to be telling me how much to give. Shouldn’t that be my choice? When someone’s outside a shop with a collection box they don’t say “We only except change over the sum of £2.00 and you have to promise to come back next month to put the same amount in.” I think it was Jeremy Irons…
The next advert was for donkeys that have been mistreated, mainly by people from other countries where donkeys are still used as work tools – unlike here where they are mistreated for our own amusement. Would you want a beer belly in a kiss-me-quick hat ridding you on the beach? (Even if it’s in a sexy way that still sounds unpleasant). Yet another £2.00 a month.
Listen, I didn’t give to the child walking miles for water, I doubt you’re going to fare much better Dobbin!
Then there was a advert for a law firm that specialises in getting cash for clumsy bastards that fall over and walk into things, or don’t know how to operate ladders. My mum gave me some great advice that has stopped me falling down manholes or walking into the whirring blades of machinery and it was “Look where you are bloody going or you’ll hurt yourself!”
It’s worked for me so far.
Next was a two old people talking about a friend that had just died and how one of them couldn’t afford to die! The other one tells them to get some kind of burial insurance. At least I think that’s what they said. Some chutney had fallen on my leg so I was distracted for a second, but I’m pretty sure I did hear that it was for as little as £2.00 a week.
I’m not sure if anyone actually needs burial insurance, because last time I looked there weren’t hundreds of decomposing bodies lining the streets because they couldn’t afford to be buried. Nor were the binmen refusing to take them because you’d put them with food waste and not household.The one that had the insurance seemed a bit too smug that he could just die with impunity or maybe it was the free Parker pen he got for just making the enquiry that gave him the superior air! Either way I didn’t care for him. I think the free Parker pen is a cynical ploy so the elderly have something handy to sign what’s left of thir lives away.
After the sombre information that I am financially ill-equipped to die – I decide not to. I am cheered briefly by a dog bounding towards the the camera playfully. I don’t know much about dogs but it could be a one of those new cross breeds, a Labradoodle, a Shitpoo or a Pikachu I’ve half heard about. Due to switching my brain to standby halfway through being told about them because I have no need to know that pointless shit – wait, isn’t that another breed?!
A voice over (supposedly that of the dog – I’m not convinced) says “hi I’m Benji” (that may not be his actual name, I don’t know what his name was, I went momentarily back in to standby mode) “my owner abandoned me because he just couldn’t afford to look after me any more.”
I can’t help but think that was an incredibly short-sighted move considering his dog’s ability to talk!!!! That just screams money. There’s a fortune to be made in advertising and film work and that’s without even mentioning the scientific ramifications!
But think how irritating it would be if your dog was smarter or just better educated than you, when you tell him to speak, instead of barking he tells you about the influence Japanese art had on the early Impressionists. Or what if he got a better job then you or became your boss? “Nip out for me Johnson a fetch me a stick…a nice one mind”- ” who’s leg do you have to hump to get a bowl of coffee round here?”
Anyway Benji goes on to say how he was now homeless and unloved until this DogS R Us charity (that may not be their name…standby mode) came to his rescue and now he’s safe and loved. Then Benji says “it’s not just me, this charity helps hundreds of dogs just like me every week (there’s two thing here we need to consider a) this dog can also count!!!!….and b) there are hundreds of dogs like him!!!!
Then he goes on to say “the charity never put a healthy dog down (but I’m guessing if it gets a runny nose or loses the ability to talk they’re beaten to death with a brick in a pillowcase) and for £2.00 a month you can sponsor a dog like me so the charity can keep us safe and loved. You’ll get regular updates and we will even write you letters…”
A shiver of fear goes up my spine then back down. What the fuck?! Jesus Christ, the fucker can write as well!!!! A dog like that could unite the dogs of the world into a giant K9 army and before you know it “Planet of the Dogs.”
The worry of our future dog overlords has left me unable to concentrate on anything else so I give up on the complex legal battle about to take place on Judge Judy and return to my office.
I scour the internet until I find just what I’m looking for – a subscription to Survivalist Monthly – your go-to guide on surviving World War 3, a zombie apocalypse or an animal-based uprising. And I’m in luck – if I sign up today it’s only £2.00 a month!
In the distance a dog barks or is that a call to arms?!
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