|
|
| The King Story |
|
I
was born nineteen years ago, in Kevin Keegans perm, he raised me on
milk and pernod. When I was old enough to walk he cast me out from
his hair and told me to make my own way in the world. I decided to
look for my mother. Then disaster. I decided to travel at the age
of four. I went to Thailand first, nobody there wanted to know. Austria
was quite nice but the less said about Poland the better. I eventually
arrived on English soil three months later, exhausted and bereft of
hope for finding the meaning of life. Ironically I then remembered
old Mrs Mckayber down the bottom of the road. She knew everything
and told me 'two and six me darling and I won't take a penny less
or strike me dead.'
When I was released on bail for her murder I started to think. |
|
Having been abroad I'd picked up a bit of an ascent. I kept sloping upwards wherever I walked. I was going to pick up an accent but I couldn't find any for sale so I thought I'd get the next best thing. |
|
I hate: |
|
people who point at their wrist while asking for the time. I know where my watch is matey, where the fuck is yours? Do I point at my dick when I ask where the toilet is? |
| Robbie Williams |
|
People who are willing to get off their arse to search the entire room for the TV remote because they refuse to walk to the TV and change the channel manually. |
|
When people say "Oh you just want to have your cake and eat it too". What good is a bloody cake if you can't eat it? What, should I do eat some other poor bastards cake instead? |
|
When people say "It's always in the last place you look". Of course it is. Why the fuck would you keep looking after you've found it? Do people do this? Give their names to the local friggin nuthouse! |
|
When people say, while watching a movie "Did you see that?" No dicknose, I paid a fiver to come to the theatre and stare at the fucking ceiling up there. What did you come here for?? |
| The
cafe owner calmed me down. My shouting had begun to scare the other customers.
"Tea?" he asked. I took my shot and got the ball 300 yards down the fairway. A good game I felt, paid the cafe owner and went on my way. |
|
Walking down the streets,
everyone was looking at me and pointing. They were laughing at me. LAUGHING!
I thought with hindsight that dressing up as a mime artist was a bad
move when trying to blend in with the public. Suddenly there was a flash
and I found myself sat in front of a computer, aged nineteen.
|
