My Most Ridiculous Adult Failures

The childish obsession with growing up is one of the greatest deceptions in the universe.  As kids, we are conditioned to believe that all the ills of our lives will all be fixed and resolved by the time we reach adulthood.  Every year closer is an inch towards independence, wisdom, and an all-encompassing constitution.  Adults know everything and always know best.

So, when you reach 18 and you are still reaching all-time lows on a five-a-day basis, you start to realize that even adults can make mistakes.  I was recently inspired by a post over at the wonderful Scarlett Wonderland (seriously, visit her Blog for further fun and shenanigans) which detailed her 3 biggest blunders of her mature life.  Naturally, this got me thinking about the stupid crap I’ve done since I turned 18 and, coming up with far more than 3 and being unable to choose between them, I decided to list them.  This list is not in chronological order, nor is it in chronological disorder.  It just is.

1.  Used an old pizza box as a bathmat for 6 months.  In my defense, I simply couldn’t be arsed to buy one.

2.  Made a double-decker sofa by fixing a bed frame onto some struts and putting a bean bag on top.  It was all going well until someone decided to sit on the top storey, at which point I realized that Blu-Tak wouldn’t support the weight of a human.

3.  Called the local cryptozoologist to examine genuine chupacabra scat in my back garden.  The black droppings turned out to be roasted bees from the “Barbeque Under the Beehive” event that I hosted the day before.  Well, that and a bit of my own scat that I used to claim my territory.

Tasty when grilled

4.  I once bought a pineapple under the sea to be more like my hero, Mickey Mouse.  The estate agent who sold it to me was a shady character; absorbent and yellow and porous was he.  He also didn’t explain that I’d have to have gills to fully utilize this piece of real estate, meaning that I lost most of my savings in the process.

5.  Tried to plumb in my own bathtub, only to inadvertently create a sentient robot made entirely from brass pipes and powered by steam.  The robot couldn’t speak or move since I didn’t give him limbs or a mouth; all he could do was whistle in pain as piping hot steam scalded his body.  A local steampunk convention travelled across the country to set up in my front room, which was annoying when I was trying to watch Take Me Out.

6.  Broke gravity by gluing some buttered toast onto a cat’s back and throwing it in the air.  The cat couldn’t land for days until, eventually, the realm of physics was destroyed and had to be restarted.

7.  Offered to make balloon animals at a kid’s birthday party, but didn’t have any balloons.  Luckily, I had a fresh supply of condoms that had only been partially used (managed to avoid a massive fail with that one).

8.  Went on a voyage to the bottom of my goldfish tank to find ancient treasure.  It turned out the treasure was cursed by Aztecs, which gave me numerous medical conditions such as impotence and an irrational fear of Philip Schofield.

9.  Accidentally, yet purposefully, ran over the cat next door, simply because it was prettier than me.

10.  Went around irritated for three weeks because I could feel something in my eye.  Turned out it was my eyeball.

That’s all the embarrassing things I dare to list right now.  You guys better not take the piss out of me.  I’m sharing my inner soul here.  My cat-killing, cursed soul that is, but my soul nonetheless!

Book Review - Sunday Supplement

Greetings. I come to you today as I sit in my fine leather chair in the drawing room, puffing on a pipe in my smoking jacket and slippers, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the latest book for me to review. That’s right, I bet you never had me down as a literacy critic did you? I’ll have you know that I have given a professional critique of some of our most acclaimed classics, including Where’s Wally (‘a contemporary masterpiece of minimalist charm’) and The Very Hungry Caterpillar (‘a rip roaring ride in which a ravenous insect devours all in his path’).

Any moment now, I will hear the soft pat of my latest arrival hitting the hessian welcome mat, covered by The Sunday Times. I have been an avid reader of their Sunday supplement for many a moon now. I appreciate the numerous branches of narrative which stray into celebrity culture, a synopsis on the week’s television schedules, and how to avoid cankles. To collate this into one unique and intriguing package is utterly sublime, and I hope that this week’s instalment manages to wrap up the story arc involving Michael Parkinson’s life insurance.

Do you need a life first before you take out life insurance?

It’s here! After throwing away the actual newspaper (who wants to read about bikini models giving away free money in the local park?), I am greeted by a glossy article of wonder. They say the first mistake of being a book reviewer is to judge a book by its cover, but I reckon I’m in for a treat today!

The inside cover has a note from the editor, which is rather sweet. If only more authors took the time to acknowledge their fans. Then a contents table helpfully guides you through the meat and bones of the novel. I wish Lord Of The Rings had something like this so I could have skipped all those damn descriptions about travelling and gotten to the bit where that bald mental kid falls into a volcano (oops, spoiler alert).

On page 4 is a pull out supplement on Ian Beale’s relationships. For those not in the know, Ian Beale is a character on one of those gaudy, depressing prole-pits called soap operas. This is handy if you find Eastenders so confusing that you need a pictorial diagram in order to follow the current plot. Then, there’s a roundup of the latest reality TV, with many wonderful pictures of chiselled presenter, Phillip Schofield. His contributions to television are nothing short of fucking awful. Sorry no, what’s the word? Legendary.

Then there’s an article about love and relationships, where readers write in (oddly enough, in an identical style and form to each other) to discuss all the sexy sex they’ve been having. This is where things get a bit blue. Apparently, Clive in Berkshire is knocking off his girlfriend’s dog, but the dog doesn’t even know its happening! He wants to know whether he should buy the dog a valentine’s gift or not. Oh-ho Clive, you filthy beggar, you! After that, there’s a woman who has had a bad vajazzle, making her beef curtains taste like oxtail soup. The agony uncle reckons they should kill themselves, then each other.

On the next page, awww it’s a lovely picture of a porcelain dog! Apparently, the dog was engraved especially for Princess Diana’s birthday, and can be mine for nothing apart from 24 monthly payments of £17.99, plus postage, plus labour, plus tax, plus dog handling charges, plus sky plus subscription. Where’s the scissors? I need to cut this bad boy out right now!

I gotta have that bitch!

Right, now let’s get on with the rest of the review. Next we arrive at the fashion pages. No mention of those cankles promised from last week (which I why I won’t be awarding this week’s edition 5 stars), but there are some handy hints for dressing to your body shape. I tend to spend most of my time in a smoking jacket and thick gardening trousers, but apparently I should be wearing a slim, A line dress with horizontal stripes if I’m an apple shape. Court shoes are so out this season, so I’ll need to skin a cougar and make it into trendy boots. I’ll also need to grease my thighs with bacon juice for that “celebrity shimmer” when I’m going out with the girls. I wonder what my wife’s sisters, Marlene and Doris will think of my new look? I tell you, you don’t get useful advice like this from reading Dickens!

Then there are the TV listings. A brief synopsis of each programme is elegantly written giving you the facts, and leaving plenty to your imagination. My mind soars over the possibilities left to chance when I read that on Tuesday there’s a mysteriously intriguing programme named “Coppers”. What could it be about? Perhaps it’s about the fall of the Mayan empire. Maybe it is an insightful documentary on molecular physics. Who knows?

The back cover is another postal order for a commemorative plate for the Queen’s jubilee this year. I reckon that this week’s supplement is more than worthy of four star status, and I heartily recommend it to anyone who enjoys cutting out and sending off for things in the post. Now where did I put those bastard scissors?