Thursday, 28 June 2012

Day Nine

Day Nien

Hahahahahahahagagagagagagagadgagadagagad8
I find wiksy in the cufboard and accident drimk alll off it and whoopsie

Winksy

Wishey

Whisk

Whisk

Fell off soffa on bum
Going shoop too bye crisp and tommatos.

Tommatos arr a friut not a vegertables
Vegetavles are horid don make mee eta vegatiblrs mummmy plese dont.

Not bothet wit shop now find crusps in cupbord too netx too Wickedy. Crisssssssssssssssssaaaaaaaps
Bef falver crips

Rings Lucy fat boobs on tellyphon
No anwsrr becase was using cucumver

Hahahqgq cumber iss not a pone! Hahahahaha.

Thin might has bap npw!
Nap on the soffa

Fel of sofer again.

Napp on flore
Snoze

Thursday, 21 June 2012

Day Eight

My leg started twitching this morning at 2pm when I woke up. I don't know why it was twitching it just seemed to want to do a one-legged version of the Madness 'Baggy Trousers' dance. After some time of watching it do this, and after a short period of joining in with my other leg so it didn't feel left out, I slapped it until it stopped.
By this point it was nearly lunchtime (3pm) and as I had missed breakfast I decided to have a picnic in bed. Making myself smiley face sandwiches (ham as the face, ready salted hula hoops as eye/nose/mouth, ketchup as smile and eyebrows) and a mug of coffee (milk, no sugar, big spoon for stirring, it feels like a big spoon day) I settled down to eat.
The doorbell rang and after a moment or two of wiping ketchup stains from my male breast areas I go to answer the door. It is Lucy, the girl from the shop with the large chest. She says she has come round to check on me, having been away for a few days and being told about my 'episode'. I can only think this refers to my drug-fuelled world domination by biscuits situation that I keep trying to forget, and invite her in.
Naturally, my living room is incredibly tidy, and everything is in alphabetical order, except the lightswitch, which is in the corner by the A items, but which I can't move because the last time I tried I don't remember much except I had black fingers and I had landed in the kitchen and bruised my sternum. I didn't even know I had a sternum but apparently everybody does. It is some sort of a bone.
Lucy sits on the couch (not sofa, as it is in the C section. I appreciate I could have called it a chair or cushioned seating surface, but I like the warm feeling 'couch' makes on my tongue as I say it.) and I offer her a cup of coffee. It turns out that she doesn't like coffee as it 'makes her mental' and I laugh and wonder what she means as I clean the crumbs that she might see under the microwave away.
She looks confused when I deliver a cup of tea with a garnish of grated carrot and chewing gum but I explain that this is because I don't have any biscuits in. She smiles and takes two sugar lumps from the bowl I had just found in the cupboard (the sugar lumps I had made a few days earlier when I accidentally dropped the sugar jar in the sink and spent several hours chopping the solidified sugar lump into cubes (alas I could not get them all to equal dimensions, and apologise for this.)) (I also feel I should apologise for the use of double brackets there, as I feel this is poor penmanship and I don't even know if penmanship is a word. Is a writer a penman? Because I'm typing this. Not using a pen. Anyway.)
Lucy finishes her cup of tea and delights in her carrot garnish. She leaves the chewing gum as it is an Airwaves eucalypyus flavour one and she says she doesn't have a blocked nose.
After a very long silence (not actually a silence, as we are watching Bargain Hunt on the telly) I decide to take a bold step. I take a deep breath and ask her to accompany me on my adventure of travelling the country and enjoying myself and she says she would love to. I am slightly put aback by this as I have memorized her work timetable and she is actually due in work every day except Tuesday from 10am til 4pm, but she tells me that she is actually on holiday for the next two weeks (minus four days, which she had already had as a holiday) and she has nothing else better to do. I begin to suggest better things for her to do when she interrupts me and says there is nothing she would rather do than go on an adventure with me. She hugs me and leaves and I am left confused. Really I only invited her as I have no idea how to read the map and now I'm worried that suddenly we are on some sort of date. I suppose that can't be all bad, as she does have a very nice chest and her shoes are well polished.
I realise my trousers are on backwards and go to bed for a lie down and to read the Toolstation catalogue that just arrived.
Before I go to sleep I order a selection of drills ranging from 3mm up to 12.5mm. I don't really need them but I am quite pleased with myself.
It is 3am when I wake up and realise the MISC ART is still in my bed and I appear to have drooled on Keith Chegwin's left eye. Then I realise it isn't Keith Chegwin, it just looks like him, albeit somewhat alarmed and with a drooled on eye.

Wednesday, 20 June 2012

Day Seven

Where did all that food come from last night? I haven't been to the shop since the never-again-mentioned urine slippage incident that I will never mention again and I didn't mention just then you imagined it.
Oh good grief, did I go to the shops in my drug induced stupor? I check my wallet for receipts. Yes, it seems I must have done, spending £106.23 on food and £54.99 on something listed as 'MISC ART'. I check the cupboards and find them well stocked, secretly complimenting my off-my-face alter-ego on remembering to buy the correct ingredients to make the lasagne I have mentally planned for dinner tonight. I note that no biscuits have been bought, placing the timing of my shopping list probably some time before the strange note I had left myself, telling myself to obtain lots of biscuits.
I then begin searching the house for MISC ART, finding nothing. I do, however manage to find £3.21 in loose change, a snail and a pamphlet detailing the advantages of eating more zinc.
I take the snail outside and place it beind the bins, where there is a considerable amount of rotten lettuce from an accident I had with a sandwich about two weeks ago. It was a very boring accident, and I won't bore you with the details, just saying that it was a waste of a fantastic sandwich.
Now I want a sandwich. I go to my mysteriously well-stocked kitchen and create my favourite culinary masterpiece. I now present to you, in full, the dish I like to call
DINNEH T'IS MAH FAVRIT.
INGREDIENTS
1 x Barbecue Beef Flavour Super-noodles
1 x tin Peeled Plum Tomatoes
1 x tin Baked Beans
1 x pack of Bacon
2 x slices of 'toastie' thickness white bread
Butter
Heinz Tomato Ketchup
Pepper
Salad (a little slice of cucumber, maybe cress if you are posh)

INSTRUCTIONS
1. Chop the bacon up into tiny rectangles (or a shape of your choice)
2. Fry bacon.
3. Cook Super-noodles as per instructions.
4. Add beans, tomatoes, a generous squirt of ketchup, pepper and the cooked bacon to the super-noodles.
5. Butter the bread and put on a plate.
6. Pour your beany bacony tomatoey noodley mixture onto one slice of the bread. Put the second slice on top and press down.
7. Add a little bit of salad next to the sandwich to stop women complaining.
8. Eat sandwich with a garnish of monster munch or skips and a large mug of coffee (blue flavoured instant Kenco, milk, no sugar - I'm sweet enough)
SERVES ONE AS A MAIN MEAL OR TWO IF YOU ARE ON A DIET.
I am probably obliged to state that other noodle and ketchup brands are available. But they taste of shit.

After eating my delicious dinner and wiping all the bits I spilled down my jumper off, I decide I need a nap and make my way to bed.
When I jump into bed I find I am laying on top of a large canvas print featuring the alarmed face of Keith Chegwin.
MISC ART indeed.

Saturday, 16 June 2012

Day Six

Day 6
Discovered what day it was today by going to the shop and buying a paper. Really I don't see why I had to pay 35p to buy something just to know the date, but I felt guilty reading it in the shop.
I have decided to put my travelling and enjoying adventure on hold until the big purple and yellow bruise on my side has gone. On the off chance I am strip searched by Welsh border staff I don't want to have to explain that I slipped in old lady urine then woke up in compost. I hardly believe it myself and I was there, although for the latter part I was off my face on a biscuit rampage.
Still haven't found a green marker pen and wonder perhaps if colour-blindness was a side effect of the medicine. I check the note in my pocket and sure enough the note is written in green marker pen. This is a confusing mystery that I doubt will ever be solved. Then I find a green marker pen in the kitchen drawer, and I remember buying it last week so I could draw some grass on the patio.
The phone rings and I answer it with a pleasant "hello!", choosing to end my greeting with an exclamation mark rather than a more quizzical question mark, as this makes me sound more friendly and casual.
My happy response meets silence, and then after an uncomfortable pause I find myself talking to a foreign gentleman who says he is from Windows Security Team and he informs me that there is a problem with my computer.
I laugh and tell him I originally thought he was referring to the windows of my house which I can confidentally say are very well secure, being secured with lockable handles and additional security bolts. There is another pause and he starts talking again, telling me that there is a problem with my computer.
I don't think he understood my original confusion so I repeat myself, this time ending with a loud laugh to emphasise the humour. He repeats himself again, and now I think he is being a little thick so I explain the situation to him, the use of the same word for a glass paned viewing port in the wall of a house and the Microsoft owned personal computer operating system.
I don't really think he is listening properly, because when I say the word 'computer' he replies very loudly with 'COMPUTER!' and starts telling me about a problem on my computer.
I ask him how he knows there is a problem with my computer and he says he is from Windows Security Team. Well, obviously if anyone is going to know about a problem on my computer it will be someone from the Windows Security Team, so I accept him at his word, although I feel the need to point out that I find it unusual that someone who works with Windows has never heard the comparison between the operating system and the glass based covering for a hole in a house.
He ignores my remark and asks me if my computer is switched on. I tell him it isn't as if I want to turn the computer on I would have to unplug the charger to my electric toothbrush and I have been using it without charge for a week now and it really has non cleaning power without the motorized action supplied by a fully charged internal battery, what with the bristles being too soft and the brush head being considerably smaller than a regular toothbrush head.
I think there must be some kind of connection issue, as it appears that the phone line has gone dead. I attempt to ring him back but the number has been withheld, which is just rude as he sounded like a pleasant, if somewhat humourless fellow.
I spend the rest of my day waiting for my toothbrush to fully charge and then I brush my teeth until the battery is fully drained. I put the toothbrush back on to charge, have a quick snack of beef burgers, sausages, bacon, hash brown, beans, Mr Brain's pork faggots, super-noodles, chips and beans, followed by a Mr Kipling's Apple Pie (x 3), a mug of hot ribena, a bag of monster munch and a banana (healthy fruit option) and then I have a bath (purple flavour bubble bath), a light supper of hot buttered toast and Haribo Starmix (1 x 200g packet, minus the eggs - saved for later) and then I go to bed and go to sleep, waking at 3am because I wanted to check if my computer had a problem. It didn't. The man must have been confused. Maybe he'd be better working for a glazing firm.

Wednesday, 13 June 2012

Day ???

Day (?)
I have soiled myself. Quite literally it seemed. No, I haven't done a poo, I am sat in a grow-bag full of compost on the bathroom floor. How did I get here?
I think perhaps I overdid the medicine I was given. Actually, I'm pretty much certain this is what has happened as the empty bottle is on the floor and someone has written 'DRUGS ARE FOOD YEAH BARRY' on the wall in shaving gel.
I spend an hour cleaning the bath out, then another cleaning myself. I have a badly bruised hip but it doesn't hurt.
I make my way downstairs and find my house has been rearranged by someone. The clock is upside down again (I fix this immediately, so as not to cause confusion later) and my flip chart has had all its sheets covered with words that may be magic spells and pictures of snails.
I spend a further two hours tidying up the house, putting things back in alphabetical order (many things were rearranged to spell the word 'GRALENICKT'. I don't know what that means.) and drinking very strong coffee (as I don't know where all my teaspoons have gone, I have to make it with a tablespoon.)
Next, I go to the garden to find the lawn has been mowed in a half-assed manner, no strimming, lines are not parallel and such. Then I find my missing spoons, arranged in an arrow, pointing at my car.
When I reach the car I find a note, written on flip chart paper in green ink.
It reads...
"Pog. If you are reading this you are not dead from an overdose of prescription painkillers that you had a slight over-reaction to and subsequently went on a hallucination-fuelled rampage. If you are not, as previously stated, dead, then that is good and you can continue to read this message. In the unlikely event you are dead and reading this message, you are possibly a zombie and should proceed to killing yourself in the head immediately. Anyway, this is an important message and I want you to read it and not get"
A squirrel has just climbed down a tree across the road. He looks like he knows something I don't. Perhaps he is a hallucination from the medicine. I suppose if he were though, he'd be doing something more exciting that just climbing down a tree and washing his face in a puddle. Also, if he were a hallucination I think I would prefer to hallucinate a red squirrel rather than this, more common grey one. Simply because if I learned one thing at school (I didn't, I learned many things) then it is a fact that red squirrels are lovely and the grey squirrels are evil and killed all the red squirrels in an animal version of ethnic cleansing. I nod politely at the squirrel, just in case, then get back to the note.
"distracted. Here is the message. Pog, this is a message from you from the past. I am in surprisingly lucid state following a short bout of temporary madness, and I have had a vision. In that vision I see you fighting the forces of evil by leading the people of Earth into a crusade to buy me some more biscuits. To do this I need you to immediately leave your home, purchase enough biscuits to maintain your energy, then gather followers and make them buy more biscuits. Then when you have all the biscuits you will be the king of the world and I will be the king of the world from a day or so ago when he was under the influence of medicine that was poorly described. Now go! Go and become the king of Ipswich!"
I realise the note is complete nonsense, so fold it neatly into quarters and put it in my pocket just in case it turns out not to be nonsense later.
I gather up the spoons and make my way back into the house. I decide my best bet is to go and sleep off the rest of the medicine as for some reason I am unusually aroused.
As I make my way into my unmade, but pleasantly compost free, bed I wonder to myself - where did Me From The Past get a green marker pen?

Day Four

Day day day day 4
Pain killers am yes.

Has not got any sandwich where is my sandwich?

What why am it eating pain killers it hard to read instructions because head woozy. Think no more take now.

The wolves. Running.

Sleep now Daniel.

Awake is now.
Have made my soul out of Lego. It is mostly blue eight dot cuboids. In a square.
Smash it. I now have no soul. So tired.

Clock is upside up. Turn it over make more sense now the world survives upside down the time begins to be untime and up is the new down.

Think I had best not write more the words are coming from too deep within me like wizard magic.

Going to shop to buy corn on the cob.

Corn mmm.

Think sleep for rest of day.

Not more medicine sleep.
I am dreaming of a dream within a dream within a dream within a dream but where are the peanuts.

Toothbrush.

Day Three

Day 3

Woke up before sunrise this morning and realised I had gone to bed in the middle of the afternoon. I turn my clock the right way up and ponder how to waste my bonus morning time. I use my flip chart and red, blue and different blue markers to write a list of possible activities.
Here is my list.
1. Go for a walk in the park
2. Drive somewhere
3. Make an elaborate breakfast
4. Play with Lego
5. Other

I decide that 3 and 5 are the best options for today so I make myself an elaborate sandwich which is layered as follows (starting at the bottom) bread, butter, Heinz ketchup, unsmoked bacon, frazzles, pickled onion, pickled onion flavour monster munch, a slice of cheese, wotzits, butter, bread.
The sandwich is roughly 8" tall (before squashing) and I have to dislocate my jaw to bite it. Fortunately I once fell on my face while fighting a spaniel and I have this ability. The spaniel was called Captain Pansy.
After eating the sandwich and relocating the lower half of my face using the kitchen counter I start doing 'other' which in this case involved going outside to listen to the early morning birds. Today they were making the following noises- pa tweep tweep pha wit wit wit wit pa tweep wittle wittle pweep. Now, I'm no Bill Oddie, but I reckon that means there's a nest of pelicans nearby.
The neighbours down the road are awake and arguing, apparently he has munummer fan gefannummer Tracy up the arse. I can't really hear properly but his response is along the lines of ahnemmer fun Tracy up the arse on nemmer shannamen fingering.
One of these days I will buy one of those satellite dish microphone things and get all the gossip without the muffled nonsense. Then again, perhaps I don't want to know. It seems that Tracy is not the most pleasant conversation topic.
The sun finally comes up and I watch the bin men emptying my bins. It is a treat to be able to watch the bin truck's hydraulic mechanism picking up and tipping my bin (black bin, this week) although the bin men seem a little perturbed that I am sat in the middle of my lawn smiling at them as they work.
After the bin men have gone I decide to check my emails again, as I don't think I did it properly yesterday, given that I was naked and too excited by free washing powder. I have thirteen new mails. I consider this unlucky so delete one from a Nigerian millionaire who needs my help to cash in his fortune. Normally, I would help him out but I see he has not bothered to spellcheck his email correctly and has used the word obfustigate, and I don't know what that means.
Eleven of the twelve remaining emails are pretty standard fare, but it is the twelfth that sparks my interest. I don't read it properly because the kettle boils and I want a cup of tea (PG Tips. White, no sugar - I'm sweet enough) but the subject is 'Travel the country, enjoy yourself'. I decide this is what I am going to do. Then I drink my tea and spit out the teabag that I left in the mug and just bit into.
When I finish spitting the tea-leaves out (takes quite a while as they somehow manage to hide under my gums) I get my flip chart and using my different blue pen I write the following...
"TRAVEL THE COUNTRY AND ENJOY YOURSELF
1. Learn how to use Sat Nav/buy map
2. Take a picnic
3. Avoid Leicestershire"
I now have my plan (re. Leicestershire, long story about a goat, don't ask) now all I need is to brush tea leaves out of my teeth.

My trip to Hull the day before yesterday has left me itching for more travel adventures and this email has given me new focus. I send a text to Matthew Spoons (not his real surname) inviting him along on my adventure but he replies saying that he has a problem with his pancreas and can't commit to a long term adventure plan. I think he is just lazy because I don't know what a pancreas is.

1. Learn How To Use Sat Nav/buy map
I read the instruction book to my sat nav and learn how to upload a Brian Blessed voice into it. I spend so long laughing at this that I forget everything else I have learned and forget to have lunch. I think I shall have to learn how to use it on the fly. Or on the drive. But not while I am driving. Just in case a policeman is reading.
2. Take a picnic.
I don't have much food in, having put it all in my elaborate sandwich earlier so decide to go to the supermarket.
Needless to say, the supermarket trip is uneventful and not worth writing about, if you ignore the incident with the old woman who wet herself and the accidental slip I did in the resulting puddle and the trip to A&E and the X-ray and the painkillers which have made my head feel like a pillow and my mouth tastes of tin and I need a nap.

Tuesday, 12 June 2012

Day Two

Day 2

Fell asleep as soon as I got home last night. Sat nav must have been sympathetic and brought me home by the 'fastest' route.
Woke up earlier than I expected to, as a bird (not sure what type, smaller than a crow) flew into my bedroom through the open window and proceeded to fly around constantly pooing. It must have got bored after a few minutes as it flew back out of the window and back to wherever it came from. It took me three hours to clean up all the mess, and I used a whole squirty bottle of Mr Muscle. Also, perhaps I should have worn gloves, as I now have extremely sore hands and everything ow hurts ow to ow do ow including ow type. I did wonder what the 'corrosive' label meant. I assumed it just meant not to go for a wee if you have any on your fingers. Incidentally, it does also mean this. Ow.

The postman arrives and hands me a packet. I am super excited and shake his hand before running to the kitchen to find the scissors. I use scissors to open all my mail because if you rip open an envelope its soul doesn't go to envelope heaven.
Inside the packet, YES! The free sample of Bold 2 in 1 Infusions of Lavender I requested. I strip off and put all my clothes in the washing machine, pour in the futuristic blue and spend 1:11 ( setting 3 with optional 'eco-wash') watching what I gleefully call 'Bubble TV'.
Now that I feel I have achieved something I decide to reward myself by watching Inception, the DVD I purchased yesterday on Lucy the girl with the nice chest's recommendation.
Whilst watching I eat (and enjoy!) seven packets of Frazzles (they are only small packets) and a Lion Bar. Rawrrrr.
The movie itself is all about people entering dreams and then messing about. They are very boring dreams, mostly of sitting down and talking to each other. All my dreams are exciting, and I wish Yompato, the giant furry peanut from my dreams would appear to tell Leonard Camprio to stop being silly and just accept his dead wife is imaginary. Maybe slap him in the eye too.
The film is quite long, but I put it on 1.5x speed as it still plays the sound and makes sense, but is a bit more fun, coming across as a Benny Hill interpretation. I do this with all films. Except Hudson Hawk. Because you don't mess with a classic.

I look at the clock and realise it is upside-down and not half past six. I resolve to turning it the right way up after lunch, which is a tin of Heinz tomato soup with pepper and beef crisps. The soup is delicious, and I only spill a little down my chest, which is an improvement on last time when I looked like I had vomited my guts onto myself. I'm just a messy eater. Add 'bib' to the shopping list in my head, which also contains AA batteries, ant killer and alcohol. I am glad to have finished 'a' and moved onto 'b'. Although AA batteries could also be counted as 'b'. Perhaps having an alphabetised list is not the best idea, I realise, having seen that I have spent so long thinking that the clock says it is a quarter to eight and I had best get a move on.
I check my emails, apply for more free washing powder (Fairy Non-Bio Liquitabs) and appreciate the irony that as I click the 'submit' button, the dryer finishes. (I am not entertained by the dryer as I am with the washer. What can I say? I love bubbles.)
I put my clothes on and, seeing that the clock now says it is past nine o clock I decide to go to bed.
It takes me a while to get to sleep, as I am pretty sure I have forgotten to do something, and I am not feeling very tired.
Goodness me, today has gone fast.

Day One

Day One
(of an undetermined number, as I might miss days out, or mess up the numbering or keep writing past my previously designated end point or something. Anyway, day one.)

I am in Hull.
I shouldn't be in Hull, I should be in Birmingham but I can't for the life of me type on the sat nav. Don't know if it's because I have sweaty fingers or something wrong at the sat nav's end, but it brought me to Hull. It dawns on me now that maybe once I passed Leeds on the M1 that maybe I was going in the wrong direction, but who am I to question such a hi-tech piece of kit. I just assumed it knew about a wormhole or a nice view that it wanted me to see on the way. Since I am now too far away from Birmingham to turn around, I phone Legless Barry to cancel our lunch appointment at the pub. Turns out he is already there and living up to his name by being legless. By getting drunk, I mean. He hasn't been in an accident. Well, not a leg-losing accident. He did get hit by a tram once when he was in Blackpool and broke his collarbone. He was legless then too. In fact, the only time I remember seeing him sober was the time when we found him locked inside a container in the lorry park that he thought was full of duty free booze but it was actually a shipment of Night Nurse. Come to think of it, since then, I've never seen him with a cold.

So, now I am in Hull I decide to park my car up in a multi-story car park and visit the shops. I do like multi-story car parks, as they have fancy barriers that go up and down and they are all concretey, reminding me of Robocop or some other lazy movie that depicts the future as a car park. I also think it incredibly clever how they don't tell you how much it is going to cost until it is impossible to escape from it's concretey, barrier filled web. Like an evil parking spider.
I like the tickets in this car park, as it is orange and white and has a magnetic strip on the back. I prefer the magnetic strip to the more visible barcode of some car parks, as it gives me a sense of mystery. Magnetism always interests me, as I don't really understand how it works, but I have seen it used to levitate a frog. I don't think the frog minded.
Also magnetism cures sea sickness. I don't know how that works either.

I make my way to the shops and buy a steak bake from Greggs. The steak bake is not my favourite Greggs pasty, the chicken bake is the best, but following the whole sat nav nonsense I am in no mood to celebrate. I also buy a chocolate milkshake.

I visit His Master's Voice (I don't like the acronym, makes the dog logo seem somewhat irrelevant) and buy myself a DVD called Inception, as I was told it was good by Lucy the girl in the shop and she has a fantastic chest, so I believe her.
I will probably watch it tonight if I can get the sat nav to work or if I find a motel room with a DVD player. I also buy myself a little Lego man with a torch in his foot and I spend half an hour sat in the food court giggling at how amazing it is. After some time I discover that it has very poor balance and needs to actually stand on the torch foot, therefore making it useless as a lamp.
I go to Boots and browse the medicines, I nearly purchase some Pepto Bismol but decide against it as it won't match the colour scheme in the bathroom (blue and white). I ask the checkout girl if they do a blue, white or possibly black (goes with anything) version, and she says she is going to ask her manager. She never returns, and after twenty minutes of waiting (passed quite quickly as I rearranged all the chewing gum packets into a pretty pattern)  I decide that she has probably got lost or fallen down a well so I leave the shop without any Pepto Bismol, in any colour.

After visiting several other shops (i bought a pair of blue socks, a bottle of red flavour oasis and a book of 6 first class stamps) and then go back to my car. I leave the car park (£6.90, evil geniuses) and go the wrong way down a one way road because the sat nav got confused. After the first mile, and a small bit of off-road action over a park I find myself back on a two-way road, cursing the sat nav that doesn't seem in the least bit apologetic.

Prologue

I just got bit on the face by a goose.

I don't really know how that happened, and I know this is a terrible way to recount my adventures but to be brutally honest, if a goose had just bitten you on the face that's pretty much all you'd be thinking about.
Do geese have teeth? It certainly felt like it had teeth when it attacked my face. It must have jumped up too, because I don't remember bending down to it's level.
Ow. Bloody hurts. If you've ever been bitten on the face by a goose, I'm sure you'll understand. If you haven't, then please don't go out to try and get bitten on the face by a goose, as being bitten on the face hurts. A lot.

Anyway, I've got an ice cream from the ice cream van man and it tastes lovely and I have glared at the goose, so I feel like I have won.

Right, maybe I should sit down and start at the beginning of my tale. A bit of background might help too, y'know, save you having to Wikipedia me or whatever (actually I'm not important enough for that, so say their idiotic administration staff. I'll show them.)
My name is Peter Oliver James Green. When I was little, my friend Liam Adel shortened my name to Pog, being an acronym of my name, minus the James, because Pojg is unpronounceable. Or Swedish or something.
I was born in 1980. Well, actually ON 1980, dead on, given that I emerged from mum's delivery outlet at bang on Midnight on January 1st. The problem with having this as a birthday is that everyone is all hungover from New Year's Eve and too poor from Christmas to want to celebrate with me. So usually I just sit in the park and feed the ducks the Christmas cake that I didn't eat because I don't like Christmas Cake.
So, that is why I am in the park today, its my 33rd birthday, and I've just been bitten in the face by a goose. Sorry if I've mentioned that one too many times, but it is still stinging. Do geese carry rabies?

Anyway, I digress, or more accurately, digest (ice cream LOL) what other background information do I need to tell you? I have brown tidy hair and blue eyes and I can't tie knots in balloons. But, then again, as I never get to have a decent party for my birthday, this can be excused.
Job wise, well I'm currently a gentleman of leisure, given that I am on indefinite paid sick leave after a coffee machine incident and subsequent issues that I shall go into at a later point, if I remember. If I don't remember though, please forgive me, as I have been bitten on the face by a goose. Goose-related amnesia, perhaps. That said, I probably will remember.
That's enough background now I reckon. I'll probably insert more background as I write, although i will do it in a subtle, clever way that will make me look like I'm a good writer and that.
Anyway, I shall now recount my adventures, or as I like to call them...

THE ODYSSEY OF POG.