Warming Up

Wednesday 24th December 2003

Regular readers of this site will doubtless be anxioulsy waiting to find out just one thing - what has my nephew bought me for Christmas this year?
Some of you will be aware that last year it was a white/brown towel labelled face/arse respectively (why not go back to 24th December last year to see, if you aren't a regular?)
This year he has purchased me (and he was keen to tell me that he'd spent his OWN money on this) a doll of an old man that when you press a button, drops his trousers, farts copiously and then makes one of a selection of comments along the lines of "You've gotta love that home cooking!" Then he pulls his trousers ack up again.
Which is lucky, because before Christmas I was just thinking how I didn't have one of those and remarking to myself how much I needed one. Now I don't have to worry. Because I've got one.
In a way this is good, because now I have everything I could ever want from this world. In another way it's tragic, because now I have a farting/talking old man, what do I have left to live for?
Nothing.
Essentially by fulfilling my every dream my nephew has made my suicide inevitable. In fact I'm pretty sure he's done this on purpose with his eyes on the inheritance.
I won't be falling for his scheme. I intend to stay alive as long as possible, partly to thwart him and partly because the farting/talking man is just so damn funny that he makes it worthwhile getting out of bed every day, just to see what fart based thing he will say next.