After regaining consciousness, I decided it might be a good idea to go back downstairs: I had been there for three hours - feeling sorry for myself, I threw my broken body down the ladder - ignoring the remainder of my bones as they shattered. (Dont worry, I have spares)
Am I making sense? Thaught not!
I have always been a huge fan of Christmas, but the gap between preperation and outcome is too emmence for a lazy schoolboy to manage. Therefore, I cut corners. As you know, it is almost december and I still have not even began to drag my fat, lazy and wobbley body from my chair to the shops.
Next week, after printing some money, I should probably find the time to actually buy some presents.
In the mean time, Im going to decorate my room. To the normal person: Christmas tree and Lights. To me: lets go mad. Lights everywhere! A clumsy clot such as myself has a knack for dropping things and subsequently stamping them into the carpet with my clumpy foot. Armed with a brush and dustpan, I scrub at the carpet to remove the shards of glass and the remains of my china nativity scene: Jesus`s head was now split into 3 parts and spread across the carpet: Jesus butter.
I always treasure the moment when my dear Mother walks in, opens her mouth in mock delight and say "You poor, retarded boy - what have you done?" as she sees my Christmas Tree, lights and decorations... she then sees my hand dripping with blood: I diddnt see the smashed shepherd: Shepherd butter!
Am I still making sense? Evidently not - talk to you laters!
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