So I had an attack of self-pity the other night.
It happens sometimes when I have too much time on my hands and there's nothing to watch on television.
I was hit hard by an existential angst and looked out of the window thinking What's the point? What's the bloody point? Darkness and futility washed over me, interrupted but for a fleeting moment by a cute blonde in hot pants walking by.
I stood there, immobile, sapped of energy, broken, staring at my reflection. And, from that angle, my nose also looked unusually big. Everything seemed to be going wrong: health, work, love... Things just weren't panning out the way I thought they would... If, as a child, your plan is to grow up to be Flash Gordon then it's hardly surprising that things might not work out.
I looked outside and watched life go by, I couldn't figure it out, the sound and the fury of it all... Then, after a while, I got bored. It was still early and I can only feel meaninglessness for so long, especially on an empty stomach. So I went to Sainsbury's and bought some beers and a Be Good To Yourself Ham & Pineapple Pizza. I was going to buy some garlic bread but then I thought You have enough stodge already, what's the point?
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