Tag Archives: birthdays

Hallmark of Hell

A newborn baby is a gift from God Himself as we all know, thanks to the cascade of simpering halfwits, otherwise known as ‘parents’, repeatedly hammering the fact into our skulls via media of all types. There has been one such arrival in my own sphere of influence in the past few days and all power to the little sod’s elbow, though I won’t be paying it much mind until that elbow is weathered enough to legally raise a pint glass to its accompanying face.

My friends have had a baby and I am happy for them. I find it unlikely, though, that given we’ll be seeing this new child in the coming days, and its parents, there’s any need to send it a card. And not just any card – adorned with the words ‘It’s a boy!’ no less.

It was long ago decreed that the world’s a safer place without my progeny, but I’ve learned enough about the emergence of new people to know a tiny cock and balls diagnoses a fresh sufferer of the male condition without parents having to be informed by mail.

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Mutualisation

I wander in out of the rain, shaking my barnet about like an outwitted sheepdog. The doors have handles but a sign tells me they’re automatic; motorisation added as afterthought, which will need to happen to me if the noises my legs make when I dare crouch are anything to go by.

I’m met immediately by a man who demands to know what I want. I can’t tell if he’s a doorman solidly and professionally making sure I’m sent in the right direction, a bouncer grimly explaining I almost certainly have the wrong shoes to get into the fightiest club in town, or one of those wretches whose souls died long ago directing you to the self-service supermarket checkout. As it turns out, he’s all three. I can be nowhere but the Post Office.

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