Well well! The window's unexpectedly been opened to let in some light to Aubrey's world once more. For me, anyway, none of you other fuckers can add anything (see last year's post of mine above).
It's a tired kind of light, admittedly, fighting through the nicotine smear on the window panes, and just about making it to the middle of the room to highlight suspended motes of dust.
They are falling. It's a slow fall, sometimes reversed by tiny currents of air stirring the dust to dance, but a fall nonetheless. Energy draining from the system. Entropy, that's what you call it don't you? All the clever fellows like you boys - and girls-(let's not be sexist!) reading this.
Don't fret; Aubrey's bathetic fallacy of dust isn't global. In fact, my world has been re-energised! Recession? Not for some of us!! I've been bucking the trend providing trickle-down economic support to Mr Patel and others.
But how? Well, as they say it's who you know, not what you know. A couple of years ago I was strolling over Richmond Bridge and saw a group of youths "happy slapping" a young man. Some might have carried on, on the other side, but not Aubrey! Like the Good Samaritan I weighed in and got involved! (also, the other side was blocked by some roadworks.)
I might not have a left hook like Henry Cooper or the kung-fu skills of "Jackie" Chan but once I sit on a youth, consider that youth sat upon!
Anyway, I bumped into the victim last week - he now runs a sandwich shop, remembered me and was able to put some acting work my way!
There's more skill than you might expect portraying a large foam advertising bun. His sales are up, I have cash monies to my name and the heat rash from the costume soon passes. I've ignored entropy and turned the tide! Aubrey is ahead!
I soon forgave the child who called me "a saggy fat loser." He was right of course, but now I'm a saggy fat loser with a bottle of Jamesons and a Chicken Tikka in his Welsh dresser, so who's the winner there?!
Unfortunately I am writing this from inside the bun suit, as the fabric fastening ties seem to have become superglued together somehow. Sabotage, I suspect.
I can get the Jamesons to my lips through the hole where I ripped away the foam chorizo, but I fear the Chicken Tikka may be more of a problem.
If anyone in the South West London area could help, please PM for my address.
Help Free the Bun One!