Teaching myself a lesson

Teaching myself a lesson

Have any of you seen that film ‘Fightclub’? There is this cool moment where Brad Pitt is beaten to a pulp and still laughs at his antagonists. I have a personal affection to that scene.

I have been beaten so hard by friends, family and teachers; it is amazing I am alive. But get this – all it did was make me more arrogant, more obnoxious, more a pest, that they all simply gave up. I would stagger onto my half broken pins, covered in my own blood and still tell the twat who decked me that, he was still a twat.

But – there is something that does/did/always teach me a lesson – it is called… my wallet.

Okay- where is this leading? Well, it all started a couple of days ago when I invested four Euros in some insane desire to look like that donkey hiding in the Ecuadorian Embassy in London.

Well, let us not beat around the bush (I wrote about all that – boring job actually. Just did it to save up for a car), and you most can probably guess – I managed to not only frighten Jehovah’s witness but me as well!

I am not really sure where everything went wrong. But wrong it did. Instead of looking like some dignified academic, I looked like a dick that had eaten too many carrots.

I panicked. This you do when you look like a ginger  haired homosexual. (Known as a ‘Gomo’) I then---wait for this- I had this idea to pour half a bottle of toilet bleach onto my head. Man, was I well flushed.

So……obviously, I am ‘on a boat’. Now what? I can not hide here for ever. I found a cap. I put it on and sneaked this morning really Gollum like to the hairdressers in this one horse town [less the horse].

Laugh? The girls nearly shat. As for the other customers - I could have happily machine gunned the lot.

So – several options really. After I threatened to single handily get a chain saw and give them a massacre they won’t forget – we discussed my options.

One – Shoot yourself.

Two – Shoot yourself

Three  - ( Now I am getting bored with the previous two options) – Erm, cut all your hair off and perhaps we will not slash your neck.

Four. – Spend a fortune and we will somehow make you look almost (almost) human.

I am pleased to announce that I, The Gokwe Kid, Simply the Pest, survived the ordeal. But I learnt a lesson – never ever buy some gunk for your hair with the instructions in German – otherwise, three hours and fifty Euros later and loads of people laughing at your expense…EISH!

I may, just may, put up a pic of my ‘restoration’. My name is not Lazererus.