Night Out

Life is getting strange or perhaps it’s just me.

For some reason I find myself becoming irrationally irritated by people who go on about carbon footprints and such bollocks. Frankly I don’t care if they wove their shopping bag out of human hair and paid for a tree planting in Brazil. Why won’t they leave me alone? I’m not a big polluter; I don’t drive anymore as I was a danger to stationary objects such as lamp posts and bollards. This means that I take public transport everywhere. I never fly because I hate holidays abroad, if I wanted to spend time with drunken chavs I’d pop into the nearest budget bar. Also I use very little gas and electricity, not because I’m mean, I just live alone.

In fact after doing the sums on an internet site I was informed that I emit far less carbon than most people in the country. So I reckon that I’m owed some and will be setting fire to a pile of tyres every month to get my full quota.

Well that’s enough moaning, I’m not that sort of person.

Rocks backwards and forwards gently

Not much has happened over the last few weeks as I’ve been spending a great deal of time on the book.

However I did get out last night to a charity soiree at which I may have drunk a little too much. The night ended oddly when I realised that I’d missed the last train home. This to a normal person would not be a big deal but I have a peculiarity, in that I always need to know how I’m going to get home at the end of a night out. If I don’t I become irrationally stressed and a mild sense of panic sets in.

Last night was no exception.

It was getting late and I had noted the person I had arrived at the event with was drinking and laughing but not making a move to the door at the time allotted. So realising that I was on my own I ran from the room Cinderella stylee and to the railway station. Alas I was too late as the last train had gone so went into panic mode. Remembering the bus station I ran half a mile only to find it all locked up and a man standing outside the main entrance hurling himself at the glass doors shouting “you fuckers, you’re all against me. I know my fucking rights, you’ll not get me.” Sadly during his second assault on the doors he spotted me and ran over to where I was standing. At this point my brain drunkenly decided not to invoke the fight or flight response but made me fart instead.

“You can help me,” said the man.

“Well I’ll do what I can,” said I.

“You kick that door and I’ll kick the other and they should open.”

“Why do you want to do that?”

“So I can get in you fucking twat!”

“Why do you want to get in?”

“To get my bus!”

“Haven’t all the buses gone now?”

“You fucker, you fucker, you fucking twat!”

He then ran back and continued to throw his entire body at the door, now more enraged by the conversation with me.

Happily I turned the corner and discover a taxi rank and in but a moment was racing towards home.

However it didn’t end there.

Before long I was back in my local town which wouldn’t usually be a problem, but on this occasion the taxi driver insisted on dropping me off outside a local night club which had a queue a mile long encircling it. As I got out the taxi I heard “Oy! Wolfenden you bearded twat!” Then “Say something funny,” so I shouted “Willies” and made a dash to yet another taxi rank and home to Horlicks and toast

Martin Wolfenden

Back in the early days of this Century, I made some money by saying the odd funny thing in public. On one of these occasions a fellow funny talker told me that I should write a blog (because that was the sort of thing funny talking people did back then.) Now, I’m not the sort of person who does things the easy way, so I rejected all the ready made blogging platforms and started my own website. Since then it’s become a repository for whatever stuff is bubbling out of my brains and a directory of various podcasts and videos that I’ve made with my friends and is completely unnecessary.

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