WELL, it looks like I’ll have to postpone my launch into normality and prosperity until the New Year.
Because I sure as hell haven’t found either of those happy states this year.
In fact, for me, 2006 has been something of what the Queen might call an “annus horriblis�.
Funny, I can’t even write that phrase without conjuring up a mental picture of Kenneth Williams crinkling his nose up in distaste.
What a dismal year. I’m still stuck in the same old groove job-wise, commuting hundreds of planet-killing miles each year just to sit in front of a computer screen, and my Rover 400 blew its head gasket and I had to sell it for scrap. Now I drive a Ford Ka, the shame of it!
As for romance, well that's been limited to encounters with various mood-swing Viragos who’ve had big rows with their boyfriends then thrown themselves at me out of drunken desperation in the murky gin joints of New Brighton.
On a basic domestic level, I remain a disaster. There's been a damp patch growing alarmingly in the back bedroom all through 2006 (it is now HUGE) and I haven’t done a thing about it.
Also, when drunk one night I tried to lift grease stains off my living room and hall carpets using a warm iron and brown wrapping paper.
The trouble is the iron was way too hot and I simply melted the carpets in two very prominent spots – so now the floors look worse than ever.
I cannot seem to get into housework at all, and when some friends called round a week or so ago, to pick me up for a night out at a local pub, they looked appalled at the state of my living room.
Thank heavens they didn’t see the kitchen. All the same, I suspect they will report me to Social Services or maybe Environmental Health.
There were so many things I meant to do in 2006: learn to speak French; buy a slow cooker; join a gym; fall in love with a beautiful woman etc.
However, on the plus side, I think I have learned to relax more; to let modern life in all its absurdity and pretension wash over me without getting too upset about anything.
I think falling in love is the most difficult challenge of all, and mainly because I am so fussy…
My potential wife has to be: (a) rich in her own right; (b) an heiress; (c) adventurous in the bedroom; (d) modest and well-behaved when out in public with me; (e) a practising Roman Catholic (don’t ask!); (f) a brilliant cook; (g) not talk too much; and (h) like doing housework.
Can I find anyone like that? Not a chance. Maybe I need to meet a posh bird.
I’d better move to Thornton Hough then.
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