As people who know me will testify, I am not a well balanced individual at all. I’m aware that it’s not considered “proper” behaviour to spend every waking and sleeping moment mocking people but I know of nothing else. Nobody ever sat me down and showed me anything other than mocking. Nobody ever told me not to save my hard earned cash and spend it all on 'die bastard die' t-shirts (one day, the truly cool will wear these t-shirts, you heard it here first!) Not once did the Minister for my Health ever try and fix me but I have a plan.
I’m going to apply for audience tickets for a live topical debate tv show. When the cameras start rolling, I’m going to recite the following speech with the venom of James Bond in that film where he found out his lady had just been killed:
"This country has gone to the dogs and is being run by a pack of useless, well, dogs. It’s dog eat dog in this world and you’re all dogs and stuff. All the politician dogs and rich dogs have doctors to look after their heads but what do I have? I don’t have a doctor to look after my massively confused head. The Minister for my head is me! I’m at a time in my life where I could easily fly over the cuckoos nest and not return to anything resembling normality. Who’s going to care for my head? Well, answer me somebody. You’re all a pack of dog slaves. Arrrgh"
At this stage I’ll slowly start to put my clothes back on and hopefully I’ll have made my point. I know I shouldn’t have to go to such extreme measures but my head is so far removed from reality that it’s the only thing I can do to get my point across. Failing that, it’s a trip to the guys in the white coats but who is going to pay for the many years of help I need? Bill Y