2 Men Talking

So I’m to be an EBay victim; bought and sold like a Labour politician; held up for ridicule because I’ve always had to struggle to get ‘the skip’ through the MOT, the children through a Harrowing experience before being sold into slavery, give my parents a funeral they’ll never forget and what good has it done me? You, like the mortgage company, just see me as a source of funds, a sub-prime ordial being, unworthy of the respect and love you’d freely give to an ant before you stepped on it without consideration or mercy. Have I really come to this? Where have my sponsors gone? Look at all the times I’ve freely given pennies to the poor people; look at all I’ve done for conservation with my semenary book “You don’t need an elephant in a fish Pie. It all counts for nothing. Players were right when they said it’s the tobacco that counts.

So that’s it. This brief note is to be my epitaph before the new being is born.

Suddenly I’ve got too much to do. I must plan the new me before I’m born, otherwise I’ll just be another version of the one I’ve just sold on EBay. What do I want to look like; what star qualities will I adopt; will both legs be the same length; where will my sparkling personality come from; what lucky woman will I choose to do the washing-up, make the meals, vacuum the floors, scrub the scullery, light the gas lamps, make the beds and shag me like a rubber bunny?

I’ve been liberated. That fool Hugo has bought a goldfish. I have emerged from my chrysalis a beautiful butterfly.

So what the fuck do I want with a rubber bunny?

And what a beautiful castle! How long has that been there?