Ahhh Easter (Blog 14)

Ah, Easter has just gone, or as I call it ‘world pro-diabetes day’. What’s special about the celebration? You get a chocolate egg. ‘Wow, it must be a really special egg, considering how much hype the event gets’. Nope. All that’s ‘extraordinary’ about the things are their size - they’re bigger than the same brand, bars of the confection, you get. Wahoo. So, I ate my colossus, and got heartburn. That’s right, I was given more than I wanted, anyway. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t too hungry, but my sugary tormentor was sitting in front of me, and mocking me. In egg language, it was saying ‘pussy’. To save face, I had to shut it up and prove to myself that I was indeed stronger than him/her. So I did, in my own teeth-eroding time. I could well end the blog, here, as all the rest of my ‘festival’ consisted of was super blog writing. I don’t think a blog about writing a blog is a good idea, so therefore, I will skip to the Tuesday, two days later.

It was on this day, I did the draft of this entry. I was sitting in a pub, waiting for the London Comedy Writer’s meeting to start, in the room above me. What was happening in my surroundings, as I was jotting things down? Not a lot. I on the other hand, was shiftily looking around, waiting for some kind of interest. Everyone in my sight, clearly noticed this, but hey, I was bored so I didn’t care. A few minutes of inactivity and the expected passed. To liven things up, maybe I could nudge someone and start a fight? Or I could use one of my trademark obscure insults, such as ‘your hair was cut by a complete amateur’. If that didn’t work I could raise the bar, and say ‘also, your hair sucks!’ Cold, I know. Better yet, I could start a confrontation between two or more other people. Yes it would be a very frightening situation, but wouldn’t it just lead to a more policed environment, where everyone is safer? Even when I’m at my worst, it seems I’m a man of peace.

Discarding my thoughts as excessive, I decided to move on, with another angle. Just for the sake of having something worthy to talk about, I did something I knew was very stupid; I put a whole pound coin, into a fruit machine. What happened?……. On my first go… I failed. On my second go…. I failed. I didn’t get a third go, but even if I did, I’m not sure I really knew what I was doing, anyway. You just match the fruit, right? But what fruit is more valuable? Is it the grapes, the lemons or the cherries? It was clearly a very abstract and philosophical game I played, that only the likes of Nietzsche could truly understand. And how many people have you seen reading Nietzsche in such a place? Exactly. That’s how the owners get you.

Perhaps stranger than me gambling on a machine I didn’t get, was me buying a PC game magazine, before hand. I haven’t played a computer game in years - through choice. Still, it was either me getting that, or me explaining my taste in women’s fashion. Maybe my purchase would be interesting, anyway… Was it? Well, here’s one of the critical game reviews, I later read, snug in my pub… ‘Desync is an arena shooter, with no heart’. With no heart?? So what? Don’t you just love those sappy, sentimental shooters? No? Me neither. What are you talking about? I was not willing to read any more such gibberish, as not only would it be pointless, it would also massively confuse my interpretation of the world. First I’d start off thinking releases like ‘Doom’ were the equivalent of films, such as ‘Love Actually’, which would be weird enough… But where would it end? It’s possible that world wars 1 and 2 were started by the kind of nonsense the so called ‘journalists’ spread, in the past. Obviously, Hitler’s will had to be broken, little by little, but after years and years, of reading ultra-confusing writing, maybe he just snapped. Maybe he thought he was saving the world.

Luckily, for the sake of world peace, the meeting was getting closer, and closer. Thus, I had even less reason to browse. However, I kept my document with me, at all times, just in case the more corruptible among the soon arriving visitors got their hands on it. I’m ashamed to say, that the little I did read was eventually turning me into a cold blooded thief. When I saw a guest carrying his Twiglets, my first reaction was ’take them! Take them! He wants me to eat them!’ Had I absorbed just a few more sentences, I may have went down in history as one of England’s greatest pub crooks. But, I didn’t. As I eventually went home, I took my publication with me, and like any right minded individual, burnt it. Mar Sin Leat!