Saturday, November 14, 2009


This morning I was lying in the bath contemplating nothing in particular. Just letting my mind float off like one of Nena's 99 luftballons when I heard the dull thud of manilla on carpet then the clank of an angry letterbox as the postman from perdition grudgingly dropped the car bomb on my world.

It was the letter from the DVLA. I was hoping they had forgotten about me when they didn't respond to my email immediately. How wrong could I be? Isn't it strange how efficient harbingers of doom are. If you made an enquiry for assistance from some large corporation you would spend months writing letters, phoning Asian call centres and being shunted from department to department without any result other than a nervous twitch, a few more grey hairs and a profound disillusionment in humanity. Yet send a one line email when the bastards might get the better of you and they are at your throat immediately like a pack of vampires suddenly discovering a virgin lost in the woods two hours before dawn.

Anyway, the form basically asked i) are you mad and ii) do you drink. So it looks like my only hope is to be a bit economical with the truth. Here's the form...

The missus has gone off to the city tonight to see "We Will Rock You" so I treated myself to a sirloin steak for dinner. American readers will think this puny piece of cat food is a small spare rib but for an unemployed loony this is a banquet. You will notice that I also have a nice bottle of French red wine... cost more than the steak... pious readers may think "sacre bleu!"... ce n'est pas un problème... look, even the DVLA letter is bigger!!!!

Once I have finished this I am going to watch Star Trek 2009 which I illegally downloaded. No doubt if I confessed this act to the shrink she would be compelled to breach patient confidence and inform the police, my ISP as well as the Performing Rights Society. I smell shite. My days of shrinkery are indeed over now!

I must remember to always brush my teeth and have a fake urine sample handy at all times. Maybe the voices in the radiator are right, perhaps I should kill them all now. I just remembered that I said that on Wednesday in front of the medical student and his eyes nearly popped out of his head, I thought he was going to faint or soil my couch. Four years of medical training and still as gullible as a fuckin' primary school kid. Yeah we're all serial killers... and they say that I'm the mad one. Is it any surprise I have no faith in the medical profession.

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