Fat Bastard.

I'm not sure if it's the cold weather, the pressure of having to be clever all the time, or just my general laziness, but I've let myself go a bit. It started out slowly, a doughnut here, the odd Danish pastry there, a KFC burger or two around the corner, but now things are becoming rather ridiculous. The other day I was walking to my car, when a rather brash Japanese fellow came out of nowhere and tried to harpoon me.

With a f**king harpoon. A big one.

Usually, I would just brush the incident off as "one of those things", but that was the THIRD oriental whaler I had encountered in the space of a week. Then a few days later at the Gardens shopping centre, the lady at the Woolies till asked me if I was the pregnant guy she read about in the papers, and politely enquired as to how I planned on giving birth.


Shaun: Not The Pregnant Guy From The Papers.

The final straw however, was yesterday afternoon when I passed out due to sheer boredom, after losing a bet and being forced to listen to Danny K's greatest hits album. Imagine my surprise then, waking up hours later to find a Chinese ship docked in one of the folds in my tummy, busy offloading it's cargo of armaments into my belly button, or navel as the Belgians call it. (I think there may be a pun in there somewhere, but I'm just too upset to fish it out right now)

Apparently, this was then going to be transported to Zimbabwe for a big soirée Robert Mugabe was planning on throwing, but I was so pissed off about the whole thing, that I chased them away with the big stick I carry with me - the one I usually use to fend off stray dogs and charity workers who harass me.

So I don't really know what happened to the Chinese ship, or what it all means to the people of Zimbabwe, but at this point I don't really care.

I'm hungry, bloated and more than a little emotional right now.

Maybe I am pregnant.



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