Monday, 24 March 2014

Fool Me Once

The former president of the United States, Mr George W. Bush, once said a very profound thing. He said "Fool me once, shame on you, fool me ... you can't get fooled again!" That's the advice I try to remember whenever I get mercilessly fooled.

This week, in an attempt to find inner peace, I've been trying to help others. In Tibet, the world's most spiritually content country, when they want something they tend to give something away. A policy which lead to them being annexed by China. But in the interests of being open minded, I've been trying to help others before helping myself.

The first good turn I did was work in a shop in exchange for enlightenment (through currency). Somehow, I still didn't feel that dizzy feeling one gets from helping others, especially after unclogging Monster Munch from the customer toilets 3 times a day. I decided that my helpful nature should be concentrated on more personal deeds instead.

I answered an advert in my local paper which read "HELP WANTED ASAP". I didn't even read the rest of the ad, someone needs my needs my help and they need it right now! Luckily they included a postal address for application, so I ran to the person's house and started banging on the door. No answer. Perhaps I was already too late?

A man who gets fooled more often than me
Taking matters into my own hands, I kicked down the door and ran through the hallway screaming "I'm gonna get you!" in an attempt to keep them calm. I heard a scream and a commotion upstairs. Sounded like someone was in trouble.

Running upstairs, panting and breathing heavily due to the physical exertion, I rounded the corner and found the occupant of the house. She was in the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, and was pawing at her house phone in desperation. When she saw me, she closed the bedroom door and leaned against it, preventing my entry. I banged on the door, rasping and wheezing, and tried pushing against it with my whole weight. It wouldn't budge. Then I realised that she was on the phone to the police.

"No police!" I managed to exclaim through exhausted breaths, trying to let her know that I was here to help. The police would surely help, but why would this poor lady want to wait for the fuzz when I'm already here?

With urgency, I kicked down the bedroom door as I had done the front door, entering the room in a shower of splinters. This only made the already stressed woman even more hysterical. I approached her to ask what was wrong, but she began screaming and clawing at me, while yelling for help at the top of her lungs. Well that's what I'm here for, silly!

I had to try and calm her down. Her manicured fingernails dug deep into my left cheek, and would certainly leave a mark. To try and quell the rising tensions, I grabbed her hands and, using the emergency twine I keep in my pocket for special occasions, tied her hands behind her back. But the screaming wouldn't stop. In fact, this seemed to elicit more screaming no matter how many times I said "Shhh, don't struggle".

In the end I had to gag her to try and stop the noise. Her throat was getting sore and she wouldn't be able to tell me how I could help if she strained her vocal chords. Eventually, the screaming died down. Now in as calm a state as a naked, hogtied woman can be, I instructed her that I would remove the gag if she promised to stop screaming.

It was at this point that a stinging sensation shot all the way up my spine. My muscles spasmed involuntarily, and I collapsed on the floor. I found out that I had been tasered by some less than helpful cops, who were responding to a house invasion call and must have got the wrong address. As much as I'd love to continue this story, my legal counsel asks me not to disclose any more until the trial is over. I'll keep you all posted on that front, but until then, remember never to help anyone, no matter how much they want it.

18 comments:

  1. You did remember to do this in tighty-whitey underwear and a sleeveless t-shirt, right? Perhaps if you had set your hair on fire, she would have recognized you as a beacon of salvation, the light at the end of her troubled tunnel. Hope you didn't lose control of your bowels when you got tasered.

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    1. This is obviously where I went wrong. I should have worn my fancy dress Freddy Kruger hands too, to show that I am a man who is prepared to pick a lock or cut fabric with his fingers, at a moments notice.

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  2. You totally should have worn a black ski mask to hide your identity. Remember, good deeds should be done anonymously, not for glory.

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    1. I completely forgot step 1 of being a masked vigilante; always wear a mask.

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  3. That wasn't very nice of those policemen. You were just trying to help that poor woman. She was clearly distressed and bothered by something. What if there was something in her closet, and you were the only one who could do something? It would explain why she was naked. She wanted to get dressed but couldn't.

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    1. I know, right? The whole event was conducted under perfectly acceptable and believable circumstances, and yet I am being persecuted for my actions. This is what happens when you try and do a good turn.

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  4. You forgot the most important part of Bush's speech: "If you're going to help a stranger, be sure to bring a weapon."

    Otherwise, I don't see why the woman was making a scene.

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    1. He also said "I believe humans and fish can co-exist peacefully", and now I don't know what to believe.

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  5. This is why I never help anyone,

    And I always keep emergency wine as well

    I will send a cake with a small hacksaw blade hidden inside.

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    1. Thanks. I could use a tasty hacksaw.

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  6. "Now in as calm a state as a naked, hogtied woman can be..." There's a sentence I didn't expect to read today x

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    1. Do you ever read anything you expect around here?

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  7. This was a common problem for me until I managed to collect enough restraining orders the ultimately meant I was not only not allowed to move more than one inch in any direction for fear of being more than 500ft near one of my help-ees, but some strange stroke of fate I now constantly find myself in places I am not allowed to be.
    Thank goodness for the internet.
    Now I can continue to "help" people overcome their fear of the naked male form from the comfort of my email account.

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    1. Yeah, those restraining orders can be a pain in the anus. When people put restraining orders on me, I tend to write them a letter of apology. I do this by cutting the individual letters out of newspapers and magazines (to give it a handmade, personal touch), then use a remote controlled plane to deliver it by force through their living room window.

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  8. God bless you Addman. You are a giver my friend. A saint among men… and saints. I'm sure this will all be straightened out in no time and you can get back to "helping" people.

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    1. What's with the inverted comments? Are you doubting my ability to help people? Send me your address and I'll come and show you how helpful I can be.

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  9. It just doesn't pay to be a good Samaritan these days.

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    1. Too right. Charity work doesn't pay either, which is frankly, appalling.

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