in spite of my rage I'm a hamster in a cage
At long last the book I’ve been waiting for turned up at work: Pets With Tourette’s. Essentially, pictures of cute fluffy animals with speech bubbles coming from their mouths saying filthy things. Why didn’t I think of that? It works on so many levels! Already it has polarised opinion within the shop between those who think it’s just too naughty to put on display and those who can’t help but be amused. It’s like The Satanic Verses all over again. If it isn’t the runaway Christmas bestseller, then I’m a goat saying ‘Cock’.
In fact it’s well on its way to the bestseller lists because the shop has already sold a copy - to me. I got it to give to Chad for his birthday. Hasn’t it always been his dearest wish that dogs could talk dirty to him? Well maybe not, but it went down well enough. Hannah bought him a toy hamster that goes round and round on its wheel when its batteries are in. She scrawled on the box in enormous letters: ‘Martin the hamster’, then was strangely reticent when I asked why. I pushed its little wheel round and watched it aspiring to move round with it - never quite making it, always falling back. ‘It’s in hell’, I said, already feeling a sympathetic bond towards my namesake. It would not have Tourette’s, I decided: it would swear voluntarily.
Well apparently it was a joke relating to Hannah’s latest fantasy of everyone moving in together into a big house in Shenfield, in which I, presumably, will be the pet. First she was moving in with Chad, and now everyone is involved: me, Dave, Ross, Kirsten, Mat and Amanda, Girls Aloud (she likes their new single), and anybody else who’s available. Seriously though, she was quite considerate about my little problem of not being able to live with her: my room would be as far as it would be possible to get from hers and still remain within the same house - I wouldn’t even know she was there. ‘But I don’t want to live in Shenfield, it’s too far from work’, I protested. ‘Oh, you can walk’, she said.
I need hardly worry. I’ll be too busy going round and round on my little wheel and swearing my head off.
In fact it’s well on its way to the bestseller lists because the shop has already sold a copy - to me. I got it to give to Chad for his birthday. Hasn’t it always been his dearest wish that dogs could talk dirty to him? Well maybe not, but it went down well enough. Hannah bought him a toy hamster that goes round and round on its wheel when its batteries are in. She scrawled on the box in enormous letters: ‘Martin the hamster’, then was strangely reticent when I asked why. I pushed its little wheel round and watched it aspiring to move round with it - never quite making it, always falling back. ‘It’s in hell’, I said, already feeling a sympathetic bond towards my namesake. It would not have Tourette’s, I decided: it would swear voluntarily.
Well apparently it was a joke relating to Hannah’s latest fantasy of everyone moving in together into a big house in Shenfield, in which I, presumably, will be the pet. First she was moving in with Chad, and now everyone is involved: me, Dave, Ross, Kirsten, Mat and Amanda, Girls Aloud (she likes their new single), and anybody else who’s available. Seriously though, she was quite considerate about my little problem of not being able to live with her: my room would be as far as it would be possible to get from hers and still remain within the same house - I wouldn’t even know she was there. ‘But I don’t want to live in Shenfield, it’s too far from work’, I protested. ‘Oh, you can walk’, she said.
I need hardly worry. I’ll be too busy going round and round on my little wheel and swearing my head off.
posted by martin at 10:44 AM
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