My slapstick life

In the second of a series of podcasts made by two men – it’s not a particularly good series of podcasts, although I’m sure it will improve as these things do – one of the two men, Michael Legge, talks about a series of shenanigans involving himself and some homeless people. It’s not a bad story, unbelievable in parts, and one of the things that happen in can be learnt about by reading the following paragraph, taken from Legge’s blog.

I was walking [my pet dog] and feeling quite happy about the day and all the things I’d got done when I felt like a shaft of light from Jesus’ big torch had shown me the way. I realised that getting work done and looking after yourself is nowhere near as enjoyable and satisfying than getting beered. Then something else hit me. It was a half full can of booze.

The same thing happened to me on Thursday. I was walking along, going about my business, after having been to the toilet I think, when all of a sudden a smallish plastic bottle of fruit juice smacked me in the face (shortly followed by an apology, and assurances that it was an accident – apparently the drink had been thrown by an unsuccessful juggler, or something). I was mildly amused by the fact that I should be hit by it not long after hearing Legge talk about a very similar incident of his own.

It’s not a very good story. Unlike Legge’s, it is not enhanced by an alarming collection of adjacent stories involving homeless people. Unlike Legge, I was not thinking about fruit juice. One member of the group of people looked a bit like a very bad drawing of Stephen Fry, which I suppose improves the story a little, but it’s still a bit pathetic.

One glimmer of interest: upon hearing Legge’s story, I was frustrated to not be told whether or not Legge went on to drink the alcohol. Did the contents make him wet? He does seem to suggest that the homeless man did not get the can back, and may perhaps have been irritated to have wasted some precious refreshment. I can report that in my case, the mostly-empty bottle was picked up again by the chaps who threw it. If they had allowed me to have the bottle, it would have been a nice way of saying sorry, but that didn’t happen.

Don’t worry. This is not the damp squib for which you are looking. Like Legge, I have some more material to spice things up, revolving around a key theme – in my case, slightly amusing anecdotes that could perhaps be from some kind of (quite bad) sitcom.

On Friday, I spent an hour pretending to do exercise but actually just headbutting a mat. Later, I ate some couscous whilst sitting on a chair. Not quite an armchair, but almost. Recently, a lady was paid some money to make a marvellous cover for the chair and its twin. When I ate the couscous, I spilt some of it on the chair. It took around 15 minutes for me to flick every grain of couscous from the chair. Fortunately it didn’t leave a stain. It’s a bit of a shame that the cover wasn’t new enough for the event to be particularly tragic or even, just maybe, with a considerable pinch of squinting, amusing.

I didn’t just eat couscous. There was some turkey too. It was suggested that I cut the turkey into small pieces, to make eating it easier, but I bullishly ignored that advice. This, I said, was on the grounds that people like Gillian McKeith recommend eating slowly and chew thoroughly so that you are aware of having eaten enough food. However, I think I also subconsciously decided that having to slice turkey fillets in front of a television with the plate resting on my thighs would increase the potential for amusing

I also ate some couscous yesterday, in the same chair. There was considerably less spillage this time. A few roguish specks of the wheat-based foodstuff did venture on to my clothes, but that was as far as the chaos went. I’m improving at this stuff, which in a way is a good thing.

What else? On Monday, I sort of almost fell off a chair, and stuff, but I can’t really remember what happened and I’m far too worried that it won’t turn out to be very interesting. Maybe, if you ask very nicely indeed, I will tell you about it when you’re a grown-up.