Excerpts from my diary (2015-6)

12th August 2015: Last night I dreamed of Alton Towers

Last night I dreamed that I was at Alton Towers. Everyone was wearing themed socks. And Mr Blobby was there. The theme of the socks was TV shows, and we all had to line up in chronological order of the TV shows featured on our socks. Since there were so many people, the line spanned across the whole park. I got on a bus that was supposed to take me to my part of the line. The bus passed a red wall which looked very mediterranean. I said, “This is all very mediterranean indeed. I expect to see the sea when I look over that hill.” I looked over, and there was the sea, sparkling with sunshine. “This is what I love about Alton Towers” I said, which made no sense because the park is 50 miles inland.


22nd March 2016: Alpha males

I keep seeing groups of alpha males. They have perfectly coiffed hair and the kind of bodies that evolution has wet dreams about. In comparison I look like a chav planning to steal someone’s luggage.

One of them is taking his time while putting his luggage in the overhead locker. He then decides he needs to take his laptop out first. He’s blocking the aisle so the other passengers can’t get past. He’s not apologetic though. He’s taking his leisurely time and making jokes about it.

“I guess I’m holding up the queue, huh?” he says with a big grin and a twinkle. I try to think of a way to exact revenge but can’t think of anything.

I reach my seat and take precisely 4.3 seconds to put my luggage on the overhead locker and sit down. There, you bastard. That’s how it’s supposed to be done.

Then another alpha male falls into the seat in front of me and groans with pleasure. The seat swings up and down from the force of his body. The seat almost touches me. The seat almost touches me. This is going to be a long flight.

I later find out that terrorists bombed an airport at Brussels. A couple of dozen victims dead, almost 200 injured. i wish they’d bombed my plane instead. At least that way, they could have taken out some of these alpha males.


10th April 2016: Oh, the people you’ll meet in Birmingham

People in Birmingham fit into one of five categories: 1) greedy slimy suited men, 2) chavs screaming “Chantelllle!” across the road at their crying children 3) drunken chavs in high heels screaming “Chantelllle!” at their friends, 4) overweight middle-aged men sitting around a table in a pub and talking about how things were better when they were younger, and 6) retarded people who can’t count to five. If you don’t fit into one of these categories then you’re probably in Wolverhampton, and if that’s the case then God help you.


11th April 2016: Fuck teaching

Teachers are weary, bitter people. Their fatigue is ingrained after years of trying to teach adolescents. Trying to goad thirty teenagers into solving quadratic equations is like trying to get a pack of cats into a bath. Like trying to get rich people to pay taxes. It’s futile, basically. “Miss… why are we learning about quadratic equations if it won’t be useful later in life?” The teacher doesn’t know. She has no fucking idea. All she knows is that it’s on the syllabus, which is like the law of God.


23rd May 2016: Killer babies

I had a nightmare about killer babies. They pretend to be normal babies, but when no one is watching, they start acting like adults.

A baby can kill you with its touch, so you can’t let it touch you. I think it kills you by shooting a small red laser. But the range is only a few centimetres, which is why they have to be close to kill you.

The first scene of my nightmare was of parents with a newborn baby. When the parents were out of the room, the baby logged onto the computer and started making its evil world domination plans.

Remind me never to have children.


24th May 2016: Sex credits

If I ruled the world, I would give people “sex credits”. You can redeem these credits for sex with any prostitute. You see, in my world, sex would be like universal health care: available for all.

Prostitutes are great. They don’t refuse sex based on your looks or personality. They only care about cold hard cash. And thank god for that, because otherwise I’d probably have never lost my virginity.

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