I am about to saw our sofa in half. I can’t tell you how excited I am about doing that. Its another notch on manly things I have done, alongside putting up some shelves incorrectly, blowing all the electrical circuitry by putting a light in wrongly and snoring. While I like trying to be all dad-like and trying haphazardly to repair and fix things, I much prefer the notion of breaking the crap out of stuff. I still recall the good days when my brother would make something out of building blocks and I could kick it down, or the game Crossbows and Catapults which just involved firing pellets at a wall until I broke. Once, on a really special day, I was allowed to push over a wall while doing the only bit of manual labour I’d ever done in my life. The wall’s supports had been removed so it was up to me to just push it over and break it. I consider that one of the best days I’ve ever had. It might worry you to know I have this side, but its perfectly harmless. Unless you are some junk and you look at me funny, then I will smash you up! Apparently there is a place in East London where you can just go and break some junk with a bat. I would like to go there, but until then, I am very happy sawing our sofa in two. I have it all planned. I am going to choose some specifically angry music: Rage Against The Machine, Onyx, Wu-Tang, early DMX before he became crap. I will also, for my own sake, also periodically say to myself out loud ‘sofa so good’, chuckle, then chop it the fuck up. Very exciting stuff.
The only thing that scares me slightly is the events of last night. First came the spilling of boiling hot water all over my right foot. I think it was my kettle retaliating at being boiled for the third time in a row and it just shot the water everywhere. My ninja like reflexes meant my face was fine but my foot hurt a lot. I’ve never before wished that I had Pot Noodles and Cup-A-Soups strapped to my feet. It would be cumbersome but I would have avoided burns and got a tasty treat out of the incident. I had to sit all through 24 with some frozen peas on the burnt toes, which is not what Jack Bauer would have done. Strangely though my foot is fine this morning which proves peas are magical. Peas to the world I say. Peas not war and all that.
After kettlegate, I managed to spill shaving oil all over the bathroom floor. I wasn’t even trying to shave the bathroom. Then, as all these things happen in three’s, just as I was getting into bed, I dropped and smashed a glass all over the floor and got a little bit in my leg. Layla was most displeased by being woken up with the sound of glass smashing and made a noise as though the house was being broken into. Then she noticed me looking all sad and a broken glass with orange squash everywhere and her noise just turned instead to one of annoyed disappointment. Meanwhile our cat Rosie just strolled in and started licking up the squash despite the shards of glass. This really worries me about our cats. Last summer they spent a lot of time eating bees. One of them really loves bombay mix and now one eats glass. I’m convinced they were cross bred with a goat and that French bloke who eat bikes and light bulbs. All these events have worried me about today’s sawing. @nwoolhouseuk on Twitter commented that it was like a scene from Final Destination. It sort of was although my acting and script was better. If Death was after me though, there has never been a better opportunity than while I’m holding a saw listening to angry music. Saying that, Death would also know I’m meant to be in Southampton tonight which is a far worse punishment than sawing off my own face.
I walked past a man who was possibly dead yesterday. He was lying under a duvet on the street with one hand poking out like the sort of reaching hand in a zombie film. His head was in a pile of puke and there was absolutely no movement. Of course I assume it was a whole man, but I could only see the hand. It could have been a pile of boxes and junk with a sawn off hand carefully placed. I walked over wondering whether I should do something, but then as I got close I smelt the puke and decided to just do the very British thing and leave him there. I know this might sound immorally wrong but the puke smelt really bad. Later my friend Sam told me that man had flashed at our friends Ben and Jo, so if he was dead it was probably a bit deserved. I mean, flashing should not be punished by death by my guilty apathy must be appeased somehow. Sometimes you have to justify this moments of inhumanity by going all Catholic on the victim. I love how religious venom and unreason has its moments.
Hopefully there will be no such moral moments today, nor will I saw my arm, leg or face off in a frenzy. No instead I will just walk away from the pile of wood and material feeling like the wrecker of comfort, the slayer of settees, the SOFA GLADIATOR! And then I will go to Southampton and it will all go wrong.
