Stop all the clocks. Cut off the
telephone. Cancel my premium Porn Hub account.
Harriet belongeth to another(eth). Let me tell you, dear reader, how
this noble stag gained an arrow in his heart...
Personally
I think Facebook is a sad expression of modern man's inability to
truly connect to others – but then there is Harriet's Malaga 2012
album with the bikini shots. You have been a source of comfort to me
in the darkest hours, photos 23, 28 and 31-34 inclusive.
But
the site has largely been a cruel mistress. My 'most liked' status is
still the one from October when I foolishly trusted that troglodyte
Rich from ICT class with my account as I went to the bathroom. I
cannot abide having my most popular writing output to date being
“bums men” (174 likes). How's that going to look on the CV,
alongside the last great American novel? Also, a classic example of
double standards. Rich didn't have such a sense of bonhomie when I
posted to his wall the simple observation that even if I did bum men,
at least my mum isn't dead.
But
such slings and arrows are as nothing compared to what happened this
morning. “Harriet Snibbens is in a relationship with Chris Jacobs”.
Chris – he of bad trouser from the party. 44 likes. If Facebook had
a 'universe imploded' button, I would have clicked it.
I went
through all the stages of grief, but with 'acceptance' replaced by
'has sad, sad wank'. As a small dribble of semen spurted out of me
like the tiny poo of winter's first robin, I thought to myself “that
seed could have been our child”. I was filled with thoughts of the
son we shall never have – inheriting intelligence, wisdom and
courage from me; from her, brown eyes and family wealth. But Ezekiel
Agamemnon Socrates Strobb shall never walk the earth...Instead, some
squat little gremlin with the Jacobs name shall roam about in all the
bad trousers he likes. The joke's on you, 'survival of the fittest'.
This
is my darkest hour. Much worse than “bums men”.
Wanks:
2 (the aforementioned lost son wank, and then Malaga 33 to cheer
myself up).
