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| November 4 2001 Sunday No papers to deliver today, thank Christ. I'm a daily paper only paperboy, and that's enough pain for one week. I've seen the size of some Sunday papers so no thankyou very much, you don't need boys to deliver them you want a cross between The Rock and a yak or some other beast of burden. Stayed in bed until eleven. Had a five fingered shuffle at half past nine and another one at half past ten. Considered going for my hat trick but got hungry. My mate Stinking Higginbottom says somebody told him that if you pull your plonker too much you go blind, but if that's the case you can bring me the white stick and the alsation right now, because there's no way I'm stopping. Anyway I have to have some outlet for my raging hormones as I don't have sex. This isn't through lack of opportunity, because there are at least half a dozen girls in my class at school who will do it for anything from the price of a seat at the pictures to a mars bar - in fact if you make a good job of it Sharon Potts will give you a mars bar - no, it's because the only time I ever had it the girl laughed at my small dick, which at the time was only five and a half inches long. I vowed there and then not to have sex again until it was at least six inches, a size that I considered should be long enough to put a smile on a girl's face rather than a laugh on her lips. It was five and three quarter inches the last time I measured it so there's every chance it will have reached my target when I'm due to measure it a week next Thursday - and if it is just watch me go! Brain Damage's mother came round this afternoon to complain about the David Beckham haircut that I gave Brain Damage. She said he looked like Clapham Junction. She said it had only just cost her five pounds for his number one, and now she'd had to fork out another five pounds for him to have another one so that he wouldn't look like Clapham Junction anymore. I told her that I'd have given him a number one for a pound, and that made her even more angry, probably because she could have saved herself four pounds if she'd only known. My father got to hear about it and he said 'You're an idiot, what are you Adrian?' and I had to say 'I'm an idiot'. It is by no means the first time he has made me do this, and I can't think of anything more degrading you could do to another human being. |
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