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You’ve already Lost!

See men, I’m a working-class man, from a working-class family, no airs and graces, no pomp and circumstance. I put my trousers on one leg at a time, I’ll eat a Jaffa Cake whole, I’ve got a “special” cup in bath room for washing my hair (A Protein shaker that I have never used for shaking or protein and for the record never will).

I do some weird stuff, that’s fair. When I go shopping in a supermarket and they aren’t looking I take someone else’s shopping trolley. Its full of food and so much faster than trailing round for an hour. 

“Honey why don’t we have any nappies for the baby again” 

“Yeah but look at all the couscous I got, we got enough to make our own Moat come on, get into this sweetheart. Who needs nappies when I got refill for a Soda Stream we don’t even have!” I use these tiny acts of `chaos to keep me sane. 

As a kid I was fearless. Remember once I ate a Caterpillar..didn’t care. Three weeks later I farted a beautiful Monarch Butterfly came out. “Yeah that’s right I fart Butterflies…I don’t need to learn no Long Division; Mammy I’m going to be a star”. I was also very much a delightful idiot… but fearless one. 

I get fears when new year rolls around just like anyone else. Hell, in this year we have to deal with Brexit. In fact, you might be reading this in the Apocalypse of April 2019 and are currently running a Phillips Radio Cassette player off a battery while squeezing juice from a Wet Dog to try and get some nourishment…. Yass Dug Juice (still better than Tennent’s or that minging Coke Zero with Cinnamon in it…should be bloody locked up!)

I worry about cash, credit, feeding my family. Trust me that fuels you up when you’re heading out the door for the fifth weeknight in a row. The other week I had to do stand up at the opening of a Friends `tv themed dining experience. A selection of words that should never go together and an experience that was sadder than a Blow up Doll with a puncture. The horrible sounds: a “death raspberry” ringing to the end of a purposed romantic night and heralding that maybe your life had taken a bad turn. 

My old flat mate had a doll…still the single funniest thing ever heard happen on a Valentines night. “Oh, she doesn’t want to be here either…. hang on where’s that giggling coming from”. 

2010…. you were kickass. 

But here we are staring down the barrel at a new year. Will it prove to be a smiling delight or a toothless, screaming, howling, flopped over, fighting a ghost of Abraham Lincoln only it can see. 

I’m not going to get too stressed. See how this one plays out. Other folk manage it. Why can’t I? 

Other people don’t lose their mind and end up staying up all night worrying about cash and blah blah. They chill and enjoy. They act like wee Westies. Just wagging their tails and getting excited at every new experience. 

That’s what I want to be. A Westie and not a wee daft shaky `Chihuahua – which is not a dog. It’s an uppity `gerbil at best. Is it going to protect your house or your family like an attack dog? NAH! A Chihuahua at best is a Panic Attack Dog. A Furby that craps! 

I want to be a Westie! In saying that I can come up with plenty of stupid things to worry about to fill my new stress-free time. Like… the guy that discovered milk… whaaaat exactly was he up to with that cow? Why did he drink the milk? How did he convince his pal to give it a go?  “Hey Davey watch this and taste that!” “STOP COMING AROUND OUR HOUSE YA WEE CLIPE!!!” 

My other biggest worry is, what if this is the year I go mental and don’t notice? Or even worse THINK I’ve gone mental when in fact I haven’t. 

Like being left alone with wild animals, when there’s no one around. One will turn, look up at me, and go,

“Hey…we can totally talk”

“ARGHGHGGHHHHH!!!!” 

“Hey Billy what’s going on?” 

“The dog totally spoke…here watch, do it again!”

“Woof!”

“You dirty furry nugget!!!”

Biggest thing I guess trying not to worry about is getting lazy. I spent so much travelling and driving all over the country I even came up with my own rules for being a passenger in my car…

1) In the front…your part of the team is responsible for navigation to the destination. This responsibility includes reading the map, opening bottles, passing sweets, watching for exits, and operating the sat nav. Poor navigation by the Shotgun rider will result in loss of Shotgun privileges

2) No Falling asleep…unless you’re under the age of ten. Very Important if you’re in the front seat on a long journey.  If sleep is needed, the Shotgun rider must move to the back and let someone else take over

3) No Smelly food. I once made another comedian eat his microwaved petrol station meal out in the rain rather than Honking up my car.

4) Passenger… you are in charge of admin. Drivers can only text by proxy through the passenger and said passenger is responsible for looking up information on the Internet, phone or other connected device, like movie times, parking spaces, navigation, where the wedding is, who starred in Goonies, whatever.

5) You’re dealing with the kids… I’m driving. Your duties will include refereeing fights, feeding, changing etc, generally being the deputy of the car…because I am totally the sheriff. 

Guess I need to start all this, this year. Try and change my blood type from “Nearly Jam” to healthier and have a BMI better than “Jellyfish”. 

Getting in the gym getting the party started and get me some big guns, tight core (whatever that is and maybe some Buns of steel or whatever name you call them perhaps your backside or your Hind quarters or…

Your bottom, buttocks,  junk-in-the-trunk, badonk-a-donk, squash tart, J. Lo’s, double-slug, wiggle bags, mud flaps, rump rockets, flesh pot, second face, bounce house, jiggle twins, bubble pop, medicine ball, sonic boom, sit-biscuit, mumbler, rock tumbler, fun-cooker, subwoofer, horn section, launchpad, the outback, closer, crock pot, jumbo-tron, waffle iron, two mounds of mischief, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum…

Whatever you want to call it. 

Either way, lets chill a wee bit this year, eh? 

Yeah I know…fat chance! 

See you again somewhere. 

B