LIFE
By
Mark Ure
Published by Mark Ure at Smashwords
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
©2012 Mark Ure
Words by Mark Ure, front cover by Mark Ure, dinner made by Mark Ure
This masterpiece may not be copied onto paper, into your laptops brain, into your trendy phone or written on a post-it note without the written permission of Mark Ure, but don’t ask because I will say no.
This copyright notice is 100% genuine, how dare you suggest I made it up myself?
How bloody dare you?
I don’t care if you copy it but if you do I will hunt you down and copy what you do, I hope Nicole Scherzingers underwear copies this, I’d love to copy her underwear for a day.
LIFE
By
Mark Ure
Published by Mark Ure at Smashwords
I’d like to dedicate this masterpiece to my mum, dad, sister, cats John and Moira, my dog Tess and my turtle Thomas.
And myself.
And that man that used to ask me for 50p for a cup of tea everyday, he was my inspiration.
And Dot Cotton from Walford, after our night of passionate sex I knew I had to write a book, the way you quoted the Bible when I finished off on your back made me cry with joy. I hope that one day a young man like myself will finish off on an elderly woman’s back and that she will quote the words of my book.
This is my first go at a book, I was very bored so thought I could do something magnificent, it’s only a short story but you’ll fucking love it.
HEALTH AND SAFETY WARNING
This masterpiece contains strong language, scenes of a sexual nature, the occasional use of the word cunt and references to penis mutilation, but it’s all in the name of fun so stop fucking moaning and read it!
This is a short story, I did get a bit carried away and nearly turned it into a long story but luckily it’s still short enough for you to feel like you’ve wasted your money.
1. Baby
I remember the day I was born, people say it’s impossible but those people are liars and should not be trusted. I mean it, you don’t want those people in your life, my uncle John told me once that I would never ever be able to drink milk straight from a cows udder, proved him wrong.
Anyway the day I was born was of course a special day. The 12th of October 1988, I didn’t really expect it. For months I had been chilling in my crib not bothering anyone. It was a Tuesday afternoon I think, I didn’t have a clock or anything else in my crib, just me and my cord, I got up to all sorts with that cord, making cool shapes with it, wrapping it round my neck to pretend I was suicidal, even sucking on it sometimes to help me get to sleep. I was happy the way I was but then it happened, I heard the splash and the screaming and I knew straight away that the house down the stairs had flooded, I could hear some mad bitch shouting that the water had broke, she had clearly broken a pipe which had then flooded her house and now she was disrupting my afternoon cord play. I wasn’t a nosey neighbour though, I just let them get on with it and stuck my cord in my ears to block out the noise so I could have a nap. Then all hell broke loose, the floor of my lovely little house collapsed! I started sinking slowly, I was going to end up in that stupid bitches house downstairs, when I got there I was going to give her hell. I kept sinking for ages and could still hear that silly cow screaming. After about 20 minutes I couldn’t take anymore, I stuck my head out the window to see what was going on and ended up getting stuck. Then this claw type thing, I decided to name it a hand started pulling at my head, I think it was the Mafia trying to kill me to get at my cord, they were clearly bored killing people and leaving horse heads on pillows and just wanted to chill out and have a game of cord shape make game. I tried to get back into my little house, the Mafia claw kept pulling at my little head but I wasn’t giving up, I held onto the edges of the window and tried to push myself back in. Sadly it didn’t work, the claw pulled and pulled and the bitch kept screaming and after a while I just gave in, I planned to jump put and run, make my escape and start my life over again in some other house. I fell out into the claws of the Mafia person and tried to run, I didn’t get to, I was bundled into a blanket and wiped down, I wasn’t dirty! I kept a clean house. As I was being carried away I looked back at the door of my house, it was all wet and hairy, I started to cry, the Mafia people started to cheer, the heartless fuckers.
2. New Home
I was quite scared when I arrived at what I guessed was my new home, it was huge! I was worried about it but I was more concerned about what the Mafia people had done with my cord. I had a nap and didn’t mind them having a shot but they weren’t getting to keep it. The Mafia person with the long hair and lumps on her front took me to a room and locked me in a small cage, it didn’t have a roof but I was too small to get out. I was now imprisoned in Mafia territory and I can admit that I was shitting myself, well shitting this thing they had wrapped round my arse to be precise, according to the lumpy person it was called a nappy. I didn’t like this nappy thing, if I done a poop I had to keep it? Nope, I wasn’t having that, I stripped off and started to plan my escape.
There was a strange brown hairy brown person in my cage with me, it didn’t move at all, just sat there looking vacant. I gave it a poke, still didn’t move so I kicked it, still nothing, I went over to check it out. I thought it was dead, just sitting there like a toy. It had a sort of tag thing round its neck with ‘Bruno the Bear’ written on it. I had a friend, me and Bruno would go places, out of the cage for starters.
I had to think of a fool proof plan, this wasn’t just anyone I was dealing with, this was the fucking Mafia! I had to think of a way to get Bruno to speak to me, I checked to see what sex Bruno was, I thought I was a man so I checked to see if Bruno was like me. I had a little stump thing between my legs and 2 little balls but Bruno didn’t have these. I didn’t want to think of Bruno as a woman though so I agreed with it that it was now a he. Sorted, me, my friend Bruno the man bear locked in a cage needing an escape plan, it was time to get to work.
I kept kicking Bruno to see if he would go mental and speak to me but it didn’t work so I picked him up and threw him over the bars, I was like a machine! I remember thinking to myself that if I ever got out I would write a book about myself and call it The Hulk. I was full of ideas at that age, I remember once I invented a mobile phone that had a built in camera, never bothered going through with it though, would ever have took off.
After a while of kicking Bruno the man bear in the face the Mafia person that didn’t have lumps on the front came in and picked me up, just left Bruno lying there on his own, I was fuming! Heartless Mafia bastards just leaving poor Bruno the man with no stump there. I was taken to another room where the lumpy person was lying sleeping, the non lumped bastard lay me down next to lumpy then left again. There was a big fat black hairy thing sitting in the corner staring at me and drooling, it had 4 legs and very floppy ears. It didn’t have my cord either, I was getting very pissed off now, what had these Mafia cunts done with my beloved cord?
The fat black thing waddled over to me and started speaking. “You’re new here” said the black fatty. “What are you?” I asked, “I’m a dog, you’re a baby, you’ll hate it here, it’s shit and they watch the worst programmes ever on TV.” So I was a baby according to the dog, I was cool with that, at least I was getting somewhere in this strange new world. “Why doesn’t Bruno speak to me? I just want to know if he’s a man or a lumpy” I asked the dog, “you’ve got a lot to learn kid, Bruno’s a fucking bear. Jump off the couch and get in my bed, I’ll give you a lesson.”
I was in that dog bed for hours. The dogs name is Dexter, he’s 6 years old and used to live with an old lady but he said she was fucked up in the head and kept locking her out of the house, so one day he ran away but the bad man with the net caught him and took him to the pound. That’s where the Mafia people found him and gave him a new home. Dexter explained that they weren’t Mafia people and that they were my mum and dad, I would live with them for years now and I would never see my cord again. I’m sad to say that I lost it when he told me that, I pounced on him and bit his ear, we had a bit of a fight which ended when I stuck my finger up his bum. We sorted it out and put it behind us, we were men after all.
Dexter told me lots of stuff, far too much to write here as it would make this shitty book even more boring, but it was all useful and as I move on to the next chapter you’ll realise that I figured things out quickly. He did mention some things to me but I don’t know if he realised that I was only 14 hours old, I was clearly a gifted child as I could walk and talk from day one but Dexter showing me how to masterbate was maybe a bit too soon. He also told me about sexually transmitted diseases, heroin and warned me not to go and stay at Michael Jackson’s house ( I don’t know when Jacko started liking kids but I’m guessing it was when I was born and if it wasn’t I apologise to peadophiles everywhere.)
So with Dexter’s useful information I kicked off my new life at the house in Falkirk, a shitty little village in Central Scotland, it was a nice house and once I got round to the idea that the lumpy person and the other one with no lumps were my parents and not the Mafia it got pretty good.
3. Food
My mum and dad now had names thanks to Dexter, my mum Mary was a producer on the popular racist sitcom Mind Your Language, my dad Midge was Midge Ure the alcoholic and occasional singer so you could say I had an easy start to life, I had everything I needed and more.
I wanted my own room so me and Dexter wrote out a letter pretending to be from Social Services saying that newborn babies are better left alone with a room full of toys and a TV, I had to steal a typewriter for the letter as Dexter had very bad handwriting, dog paws just weren’t made for writing. The parents thought the letter was genuine so I got my own room, enough toys to lure over a hundred kids into the house of Madonna and not one but two lovely TVs.
Most of my toys were teddy bears, action man figures and board games that someone my age would have no idea how to use, luckily I was a boy genius and used to beat myself regularly at Monopoly. I had a life sized clown that freaked me out every day, I told Dexter about this a lot but he didn’t care, he used to hide for a while then start talking in a funny voice pretending he was the clown, I’m sure it was very funny for him but for me it was always a nappy filling experience. I got him back for it of course, for nearly 3 years I put a little bit of cocaine in his water bowl, I was a cool cunt, drugs came my way from an early age so I used the for fun and put my dog into a drug fuelled panic attack at least once a day. One time he was so fucked up that he bit the end of his tail right off, I laughed for hours at that but eventually had to stop and peel him off the ceiling. Fun times and times I will always remember but there was one day I will never forget.
Mum and dad decided that since I was a special boy (not special as in eating crayons and licking windows) I deserved a birthday party to celebrate being the big 1. I was obviously quite nervous about this, I didn’t know what I was going to wear, whether I would get drunk before or during the party and I didn’t have time to brush up on my pulling techniques. Dexter put me at ease and told me most of the girls coming would be snotty little cunts with shitty nappies and dummy tits hanging out of their mouth, tits in their mouth? I was having a fucking orgy for my birthday!
Dad Midge was looking really forward to the party, well any excuse for a drink with him, but he wanted to make sure there was plenty of good food. We went shopping and he let me pick out all the food, I couldn’t believe my luck, not even a year old and I’m planning a party, this would be spoken about for years to come, probably even 23 years down the line in a shitty ebook.
I felt like I was on Dale Winton’s Supermarket Sweep. (I don’t know if Dale had admitted to being a big dirty bummer in 1988 but I know he was thinking about penis in his bottom, this has no relevance and whether he was gay or not doesn’t change the story in any way or cock shaped form) I was racing down the aisles in the trolley picking any old shit off the shelves, for sandwiches I had 36 bottles of tomato ketchup, 2 packs of corned beef and 119 jars of pickled eggs. For snacks I had 2 trollies full of Wotsits, (I quite liked wotsits) 20 packets of bourbons, 6 packets of rich tea biscuits, 1 bag of midget gems and 18 bottles of cherryade. I wanted some banana milk but we received a pigeon mail from Margaret Thatcher saying there would be no milk and not to ask again or she would behead Dexter. I didn’t like Mrs Thatcher because she was a nasty woman but my grandad really hated her, he worked down the mines and to taunt him she used to send a lump of coal to him for Christmas, it wasn’t very nice and I think it was one of the reasons he tried to shoot old Maggie but accidentally shot himself in the face.
So I had all the food for the party, now I needed to write out the list of presents I wanted. I asked for a small hand gun, a machete, thick rope, an ounce of top quality Afghani cannabis, a Ford Escort and a guinea pig. Dad looked worried when he seen my list, the closest pet shop was miles away and his car was in the garage, I told him not to get stressed about it, he calmed down and drank 4 bottles of vodka.
I had to write out invites for my friends, I couldn’t write yet and Dexter still had dog paws so I had to just go round the doors inviting people, I invited everyone in the street then I had to go to Berlin and invite my uncle Joseph, he had moved there during the war to support my great grandad Adolf and his little army. I didn’t have a passport and had forgotten my wallet as I left the house so I just hijacked a rowing boat, my little arms were ready to fall off by the time I arrived! I walked from the boat to uncle Joseph’s house, he wasn’t in.
The day of the party arrived, mum forced me to wear a little suit and a bowtie, I looked like Jimmy Krankie but a bit taller. The garden was full of tables with all the snacks on it, there was 4 tables just for the ketchup sandwiches. There was a bouncy castle, a ball pool and Dexter had a saddle on his back pretending to be a donkey. Most of the family were there and some friends from the street, they said they were my friends but I didn’t really like any of them, they all had a funny smell about them and one of them was still sucking his thumb, what a loser!
I done some dancing with the little slut from number 4, she was gagging for it, she was 3 but I liked older women, imagine the experience she would have. After we finished dancing to some Joe Cocker I made my move, I gave her the best nose lick she’d ever had, she loved it! Filthy whore.
Then came my favourite part of the day, the presents. Nearly every one of the guests got me a shitty teddy bear but I was more looking forward to my gun, unfortunately dad was a raging alcoholic and never got me them, he did manage to get me a guinea pig though, it looked suspiciously like next doors guinea pig George that had went missing 2 days ago but this one was called Jenny, couldn’t possibly be the same one.
The party went well, I had a little too much to drink and maybe went overboard with the ketchup sandwiches but I had fun and so did every one else, well not aunt June, she pissed herself when I burst the bouncy castle and never joined in any of the games after that. I finished my 1st birthday by riding Dexter around the living room until he collapsed in agony. I put some cocaine in his water to keep him going though and we went for a quick ride to South Korea to pick up a late gift from my second cousin Kim.
The next 3 years were pretty much the same, I grew up quickly, Dexter taught me much about life and Jenny the guinea pig fucked off over the fence and turned back into George. Dad kept singing and drinking, mum lost her job because Mind Your Language ended and no one wanted to make another racist comedy sitcom. She became a housewife mostly looking after me making sure I didn’t kill Dexter. There was one time when he nearly died, stupid dog took too much cocaine and tried to fly out of the window, it was only the ground floor so it was about a 3 foot drop but he still broke his leg. He didn’t speak to me for weeks after that and I got very lonely, this was when my passion for bomb making began, I got a magazine about it and started making small ones to begin with. After a few successful little bangers I made a huge rocket shaped nail bomb and set it off on New Years Eve 1991, I killed 9 people in Ireland, 4 people in Japan, 1 in Paris and a cat in Peru. I was the first terrorist in the world and I started training camps, a few bearded people joined up, one was a Mr Osama Bin Hiding who later changed his name to Bin Laden. He was a quick learner and after only a few months under my guidance he started his own training camps in beard land. He also started a new fashion trend by wearing a bath towel on his head at all times, he was a cool dude but he wasn’t a fan of water, always made excuses when we went swimming.
Not long after my 4th birthday mum sat me down and explained that I would have to go to school soon, she obviously hadn’t noticed that I had been running my own school but she said I would go to playschool soon and learn how to paint with half potatoes, do some colouring in, learn how to count to 10 and even learn the alphabet, you know the essentials needed to survive in life. Dexter told me to be prepared for the drug fuelled experience that they called school, he said I would get my first shot at fingering, I didn’t have a clue what he meant but I just nodded and agreed.
Another chapter of my life was over, I was now a fingering, potato shape making school kid, I was looking forward to every minute of it.
4. School
It started off good, the teacher was a dickhead but I told him just to stay out of my way and we would get on fine. The other kids in the class were a bit thick and a few of them were special (crayons, window licking) but it wasn’t too bad, I got a banana and toast with strawberry milk every day for lunch and I had a little red and yellow car that I went for a spin in at play time.
The teachers name was Mr Beale, (no relation to Ian, I asked and he punched me) the classroom assistants name was Miss Davidson, or Blinky Bill as we all called her, (she had something wrong with her eyes) we might have only been young but we were already mastering the art of bullying. There was also the class mascot, a hamster called Hammy, it didn’t last very long, a fat boy called Steven Ferry sat on the cage and destroyed the cage and the poor little hamster. There was a few incidents like that, most of them involving fat Steven, once we had a visit from children’s TV presenters and they had snakes and spiders with them, most of us were shitting ourselves, I was obviously cool with it and just told the snake to leave me the fuck alone but big fat Stevie boy decided he would pick the snake up and let it wrap round his neck, the snake clearly felt the same way about the fat cunt as the rest of us and started to strangle him, Stevie started panicking and walked backwards into the teachers desk, fell on his back and crushed the snake to death, as the snake was passing over it made a noise, every one said it was just a hissing noise but I’m sure it sounded like “go on a diet you smelly fat bastard.”
Apart from animal related antics and me passing the potato shape exam with flying colours there was only 2 things that stick in my memory about primary school. One was amazing and the other was just amazingly funny, I mean piss your pants funny, well it was funny if you think 6 year old boys nearly being killed is something to laugh at. Being sick in the head means I find things like that very funny.
Chinese Chris was in the year below me and was an okay guy, his mum was well known for sucking the teachers willies to make sure he got good marks on his dot to dot tests. He wasn’t really Chinese, he just had a funny colour of skin and very small eyes, he always said his dad was Bob Marley and that he was allowed to smoke weed every day because it was like medicine. Every one in the class thought he was a hero, no one ever asked how his dad managed to plop out some spunk to make him 6 years after he had died. Because I was a boy genius I thought I would trick him so I crushed up some tea and herbs and put them in a plastic bag, took them into school and sold him them for 30p telling him that it was top quality cannabis. He fell for it and bought it, then he said that daddy Bob always rolled the joints and he couldn’t do it, I knew how to roll a joint because Neil Buchanan done it once on Art Attack. I rolled him up a big fat tetley and parsley reefer and even lit it up for him. He took it and sucked on it like George Michael sucking on a big fat juicy lollipop. (you filthy minded bastard) It didn’t seem to effect him, he smoked the full thing and seemed fine after it, I know it was just tea and herbs but I expected something to happen but no he was perfectly fine. Until we got into the class and he passed out, turns out Chinese Chris was allergic to tea. Poor bastard, all he done was lie about Bob Marley being his dad and because of me he nearly died in a tetley tea attack.
The other thing that happened involved the primary 5 teacher Mrs Richard or Dick as we liked to called her, it turns out she also liked the dick. I was a bit of a stud, I had great fashion sense. My dungarees were a favourite with the ladies and Dick just couldn’t resist me in them. I know you’re probably thinking that me doing the sex with my teacher is wrong but I didn’t mind, I enjoyed it a lot and there was even a bit of a pregnancy scare. It was cool though, no baby came and I’m glad because although I was a smart young man I just didn’t have the time to bring up a kid and I really didn’t want to share my toys with it.
I had to get out of that primary school enviroment though, the sexual tension was unbearable and if I had to witness fat Steven squashing any more poor creatures I’d be put off fat people for life. I had a great plan though, I got old enough to leave and moved to high school.
5. Car
High school was fucking amazing. Most of the kids in my year were cool, some of them were total cunts but I got on good with most people and the teachers were decent enough. I even learnt stuff sometimes.
The first person I met at my new school was a little ginger kid, his name was Ronald Weasely, he was an English twat but he had been bullied at his schools in England so had been moved to Scotland. He got bullied because he thought he was a wizard, he was fucking nuts! I remember in biology once he made a total fool of himself, he said he knew a giant that lived in a hut at the edge of the bad woods, he also said many times that the giant had a 3 headed dog, I tried to avoid him as much as I could but sometimes he just appeared from nowhere and I had no choice but to hang around with him. He always went on about his friend Gary Cotter but I never paid much attention.
There were 2 girls in my year from abroad, they were gorgeous and I made one of them my first real girlfriend. Her name was Robyn Fenty and she came from Barbados, a proper little dirty slut she was. I remember when she sucked my willy in the maths class, while Mr Reid was busy going on about how many sides a triangle had I was busy sticking my own pointy thing in her mouth. Kids and teachers still talk about the day Robyn shit her pants in the middle of a hockey game. It was hilarious and we had split up by that time so I was able to join in with the laughter. She was a decent singer and loved the music class, I taught her how to sing and use her voice properly. The last I heard she had changed her name to Rihanna and moved back home, don’t have a clue what she’s up to these days but I hope she remembers everything I taught her.
When I was 15 I got my first car, by this time dad was consuming so much drink that he didn’t know who I was, I lost count how many times he shot me thinking I was a burglar. He took me to his showbiz friend Jeremy’s house to buy one of his quality used cars. Jeremy was a weird bloke, he had a little hamster called Richard and dad said I was wrong but I’m positive his wife James was a man. I had a few test drives in different cars but in the end I got a Vauxhall Corsa 1.2 litre pussy magnet. I was now on the road, dad never asked when I had passed my test or why there were 6 Taiwanese illegal immigrants living in the house.
I just sort of taught myself how to drive, a boy at school helped me, he was a snotty little prick and thought he was amazing at everything, I’ll never forget the time you caught herpes after sticking your dick in the slush puppy machine Lewis Hamilton.
Having a car was of course good for pulling the chicks and with me being a stud I was up to my eyebrows in fanny every hour of the day. The Corsa was a bit dodgy and I was never away from garages getting it fixed. I went for a spin one day to Southampton to get some crisps and one of the wheels fell off. None of the garages would fix it for me because I had a bust up with them all when I founded the Hells Angels. Only one person would fix my car and that was a certain Mr Mitchell, he owned The Arches in Walford and was a great mechanic. I dropped the car off and went for a pint at his mums pub, his little boy Ben was there tap dancing on the bar but I just ignored him, it was difficult to ignore him as he was naked but I done my best. An hour later and I had my car back, it was like new, it actually felt like the back of the car was a totally different car. Only cost me 15 quid, if you ever need your car fixed head on down to Walford and speak to Phillip, he’s the main man but don’t give him alcohol! Or crack.
I left school when I was 15 with the highest grades in every subject, I took my exams early because I was so smart, one teacher asked if I was related to Bill Gates but I’ve never heard of him, maybe she meant William Fence from the golf club but I’ll never know now.
As soon as I left mum and dad sat me down and asked me what I wanted to do. Dexter told me I should go to college then try for a place at university, mum said I should go into showbusiness and maybe support dad and his band on the road and dad told me I should get a job at a brewery, he told me to think of the perks. Dexter went round all the colleges picking up some leaflets and books for me to pick a course, he said I should do something creative like become a vet and that I should think of all the perks. I took some time to think about it, I didn’t want to rush into anything, my good friend Lionel had rushed into things in his life and fucked it all up, luckily for him his uncle was a cleaner at the Nou Camp and got him a trial, they thought he was not too bad and signed him up, a few years on and Lionel is now a first team player. I taught him everything he knows but my dodgy knee stopped me from making a career out of it. Hope the lad does well and he knows if he needs a loan or somewhere to crash I’m always there for him.
Before I got the chance to apply to a college, get a job or find a suitable brewery dad destroyed the family and we had our faces and our personal lives plastered all over the papers, even one edition of the Beano published a story about me. Because of dad’s drinking and his lack of brain cells he didn’t know where he was most of the time but what he done was totally wrong and I wanted to kill him.
It all started when some woman chapped the door dressed as my uncle Stan, it was amazing how much the woman under the mask looked like my uncle, the same uncle who had died in 1993 but that wasn’t the point, this chick was a filthy lying bitch who would do anything for a story but I liked her so I invited her in. Her name was Rebekah, she explained that she was filming a new prank show for channel 4 and had dressed as uncle Stan to see if I would fall for it, after I told her that my lovely uncle had passed away a while back she added a new wire to the phone saying if I ever needed to contact her the wire would make it easier, then she took all the jaffa cakes from the biscuit tin and left.
I didn’t think much of the wire the uncle lady had put on the phone until I bought the News Of The World one Sunday and my dads face was right on the front page with the headline “DIRTY CHEATING BASTARD” written across the page. I ran home to read the paper. After I done the puzzle page, read the cartoons and checked my horoscope I seen what all the fuss was about concerning dad. I was totally shocked and very hurt. He had been having an affair with pop star and pensioner Lulu for over a year. She was a heroin addict who had injected her career away, her and dad had been meeting up every weekend when they were supposed to be gigging and going to have the sex in Lenny Henrys hotel. I was fuming! I instantly read the sports section and seen what was on TV then stormed down stairs to confront dad, he was sitting in his chair drunk watching Art Attack. I asked him what was going on and he said mum knew about it and that they were splitting up. I asked mum about it, she said she was moving out and Lulu was moving in. Mum said she would get a nice house and I could go and live with her but until then I had to stay with dad and his old slutty junky love opponent.
The next day mum moved out and I waved her off, her promising that she would be back to get me very soon. Dad went to pick up Lulu and told me to get ready to meet her. They came back and found me masturbating to Hannah Montana whilst eating Dexters beefy buttons. Dad just looked at me and shook his head, new mum Lulu stared at me furiously and said “WEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLL you make me wanna SHOUT at you you filthy boy.” But after I explained that it was for educational reasons and I gave her a fresh needle she forgave me. Maybe life with my new mum wouldn’t be so bad.
6. Gameshow
I got the letter through the door one Friday morning, there was the same letter for dad and one had been sent to mum at her hostel. This is what the letter said: (if you didn’t think of the song The letter that Johnny Walker read there you’re a cunt, your mums a cunt and your dads also a cunt)
Dear Mark
I am writing to inform you that your father Midge and mother Mary recently applied to appear on the gameshow Get Your Kids Back, a brand new show starting on BBC1 this summer, the show is a spin on the old show Get Your Own Back which was hosted by Ainsley Harriot’s brother Dave Benson Phillips and was a chance for kids to get revenge on their older relatives who had abused them. The old show had to be cancelled after the Gary Glitter special, now we’re back with a new host, a new format and a new studio.
Your parents will come on the show and answer 50 questions on various topics, you will be locked in a cage above the stage, every time one of your parents gets a question wrong the cage will be lowered towards the other parent, for example if your dad is still a filthy alcoholic and gets a question wrong you will be pushed towards your mum. The questions will be very difficult and answered by new host Stephen Hawkings. Whichever one of your parents wins the quiz will also win custody of you and will be granted this through Judge Judy who will be sitting in the audience.
We look forward to seeing you on the show next Monday afternoon for the first live broadcast.
Thank You
Jeremy Kyle executive producer
I arrived at the studios early as I had to be there before mum and dad so they could put me in the cage and raise me up to hang over everyone’s heads. The audience was mostly pensioners, I thought Lulu had brought all her friends but it was actually the Countdown audience, I wasn’t aware of this but the audience that sit there knitting, sucking toffee sweets and laughing at Nick Hewers terrible jokes are hired and shipped around studios for shit TV shows all over the country.
The show started with funny prank man Jeremy Beadle doing 5 minutes of pranks on the audience, he put a tin of corned beef in an old woman’s handbag, cut off a mans fingers and glued sausages in their place, poured custard over himself then finished by running across the studio, slipping on a banana, falling to the ground, smashing his head, bleeding to death then sending the video of the accident to You’ve Been Framed.
Then host Stephen Fry appeared dressed as a baby, he acted as if this was normal so no one said anything, he fired straight into the questions and was on question 19 before the audience even noticed the show had started. Mum was doing great, getting all of her questions correct, dad had already got 4 questions wrong so I was hanging over towards mum at the half way stage. For the break Lulu came on stage and shouted one of her greatest hits.
Dad done better in the second half and after 46 questions he had 8 wrong while mum had 7 wrong, it all came down to the last question, big baby Fry asked “when dealing with a drunk person what is the best way to sober them up?” mum was straight in there saying that smacking them over the head with a pot or pan was the best way. Red lights started flashing, sirens went off, confetti was fired into the air and the bottom of the cage fell off, I plummetted through the air, falling on top of little Lulu smashing her into the ground.
Judge Judy confirmed that mum now had custody of me and I should move into the hostel straight away, I hobbled off holding my broken leg with my mum, dad helped Lulu into the ambulance with her broken neck. A great day all round for the family but sadly the show only lasted for one series and Stephen Fry had to go back to doing shit like Q.I.
7. Talent
Life at the hostel was crap. Mum tried her hardest to get us a house but she just couldn’t afford it. She had a good job, working as a personal assistant to TV star Michael Barrymore but the work was starting to dry up for him and mum was more of a pool cleaner than anything else. She was applying for lots of jobs but having no success. I sat down with out new cat Pete, I could only speak to Dexter on social networking site Bebo now as he was still staying with dad, Lulu and Lulu’s broken neck. Pete was cool though, great at giving advice and told me that I should forget about college and think of a get rich quick scheme. We talked through the idea of robbing a bank or even the local corner shop, if I had a van I could steal all the drink and cigarettes and packets of wotsits, that would last us for a while. Pete told me to have a go at singing around the clubs, he had heard me singing when I was having a wash in the sink and thought I was good. He said I could be the next Steve Brookstein. Or maybe even better, the next Rik Waller. It wasn’t too bad an idea so I decided to give it a go.
I had some great gigs at The Pub, (that was the name of the pub) the first one I performed some of my favourite songs in front of the audience of 6 people, the second gig was amazing, I tried out some songs I had written myself and the 2 people in the audience seemed to enjoy them. Other gigs were similar so I thought I had hit the big time, I phoned Louis Walsh to see if he would sign me up to his record label Bumming In The Toilets. He said I was too young but that I could audition for a new talent show starting soon, Scotlands Got Talent was kicking off in Edinburgh in a few weeks time and he gave me the details to apply.
I didn’t tell mum about my audition, I just went alone in case I fucked it up. I had to be at the local town hall for 9 in the morning to be briefed before I went in front of the judges. No one knew who the judges were yet as this was the first day of auditions. I knew nothing about the show so I was excited to see who the host would be, I was expecting Ant and Dec or Dermot O’Leary, I was met backstage by Wheel Of Fortune host and celebrity rapist John Leslie. This was a big risk for ITV, this was John’s first job on TV since being attacked by Mike Tyson in which the mad boxer bit his nose off. There had been rumours in the papers that Simon Cowell would be head judge as he was the man behind the show, some of the other names mentioned in various papers were Katy Perry, Lilly Allen, Peter Kay, Brad Pitt, Mel Gibson and his Jewish rock band.
John took me to the side of the stage and done some warming up exercises with me which involved deep throating a cucumber wrapped in Christmas tinsel. It was quite a show, I told John he should audition but he said he wasn’t allowed on stage as he may scare the public. The girl on stage got buzzed off by the judges and ran off crying, it was my turn, my chance to shine. John squeezed my bum and pushed me on stage, I got an almighty cheer from the 50 odd people in the audience. I was shitting myself and it took me a few seconds to look up and see the judges Looking back at me was comedian, radio host and bald man Fred McAuley. Next to Fred was heroin addict, jail cell occupier and star of hit BBC comedy show The Scheme Marvin Baird. Sitting next to Marvin looking terrified was the man behind the Fat Controller, the inventor of the haggis and King of Scotland Alex Salmond. Seated on the end was Big Bob from Oscar nominated and BAFTA winning Glasgow sitcom River City. Quite a line-up I’m sure you’ll agree. I was surprised that Marvin had been allowed out of prison to judge the show and I was disgusted that the tax payers money was being used to have 2 armed guards standing behind him at all times but I just had to get on with it and do some singing. I had come dressed as Freddie Mercury but I was now regretting that as I wasn’t doing a Queen song.
The song I had chose to sing was the popular hit Witchdoctor from The Cartoons. I done my best, I hit the high notes perfectly, my dancing was decent but I think my choice of song might have fucked it all up for me, only Bob O’Hara from River City seemed to enjoy it, the judges told me what they thought of my performance. First up Marvin said “fucking shite man, terrible, worst thing I’ve ever heard man, where the fuck’s Dayna? Got crack?” (I have translated that into English as Marvin has a bit of a speech impediment known as scum tongue.) Bald Fred was easy to understand as he is human, “it wasn’t good son, as you may have heard me say on Mock The Week, FUCKING BOO!” That one hurt a bit as I loved Fred but he’s entitled to his opinion and I hope when he got home to find his house on fire he realised I was actually a really good singer. Big Bob just shook his head and said “that was crap, get off the stage.” I thought that was very rude and I told Lenny Murdoch all about it so he’s fucked. Finally the King of Scotland Alex Salmond said “that was lovely, ignore they three, they don’t know talent when they see it, I will put you through to the next round if you agree to vote yes to independence?” I declined and left the stage, John Leslie was backstage having sex with Dayna from The Scheme, I just smiled and walked on by.
Very upsetting experience for me and one I will never forget, in the end an American who could eat 50 hot dog sausages in 2 days won the competition and the prize of £80 and a years supply of Tunnocks Caramel Wafers.
Back to the drawing board for me, I had to make money some way and quickly.
8. Nick
I had to sort myself out, after the failed audition I applied for a lot of jobs. Mum resigned from her job at the Barrymore swimming pool, she had a part time job opening cans for Michael J Fox but she needed something more. I phoned my friend Osama to see if he could help her out, maybe we could relocate to Bombastan, the country he had formed. He said he didn’t have anything that would pay good but if she fancied being a dummy for the stoning he would be more than happy to help. I asked her, she said she doesn’t do drugs and we left it at that.
I went to the job centre to have a look at what they had, I wasn’t interested in the 200 jobs which involved making tea for the man who sucked cocks through the glory hole in public toilets, if it was coffee I’d have been up for it. I took the numbers for 2 jobs that I quite fancied and thought I had the qualifications for. I phoned the first one, a head waxer for high collared funny man Harry Hill. His turtle answered and explained that Harry was busy shaving his head, I was bloody disgusted! The famous bald man with the famous bald head actually has hair, the cheek of it, next thing we know Al Murray will be having hair and not actually owning a pub. I told the turtle to remember to eat his greens and hung up.
I had some crisps and a cup of hot chocolate then phoned up for the second job. I was put straight through to the man I would be working for, explained to him who I was and what I could do and he said I was to start straight away. I was delighted, I had a job. I was now colour advisor to Mr Nick Griffin.
I had to move to a place in London called Whiteburgh, it was a new estate built totally by Mr Griffins little friends at the BNP. It was quite nice but a bit bright, everyone looked the same there, short white hair and white moustaches in the style of my grandad Adolf, I thought this was done to welcome me and felt humbled. I had to dye my hair white as soon as I arrived and was asked to get rid of any black clothing I had. I moved into my new house, 6 Whitehill Avenue, it was nice but the TV was pretty rubbish, it was in black and white but the black had been removed. Everything was white, even the tyres on cars were white, it really was amazing.
My first month working for Nick involved going around the country in Nissan Whitebird looking for black things, my job was to paint them white, even people, anyone that wasn’t white had to be painted. It was a good job and the pay was good but for some reason people didn’t like me now, especially the people I had painted.
It all kicked off one day when I got out my paintball gun and started shooting a gang of black lads, they chased me and told me that they were going to riot in London, they might leave it for a while, maybe until around 2011 but they promised that they would riot and cause total destruction. I shit myself after that, quit the job and moved back into the hostel with mum.
Now I had to go back to the fucking drawing board again, I just didn’t know what I was going to do, jobs were becoming harder to find but surely I would get something I liked.
9. Valium
I went back to the hostel and mum wasn’t there, one of the boys staying there said she had been dating comedian Andy Parsons and had moved into his home to live with him and his 9 wives. She had left a letter for me explaining that we should go our seperate ways in life and that I should forget about her now. I wasn’t too bothered, she was holding me back, I didn’t have to worry about making money to keep her in teabags now. I was going to make a name for myself, fuck bald Fred McAuley saying I was rubbish, I’d prove him wrong.
I moved in with a guy I met in the chip shop, his name was Bobo, I don’t think that was his birth name but he said it was. He had a little one bedroom flat down by the water, he said I could have the bedroom because he preferred to sleep on the couch. I was happy with that but I was more pleased when he said I didn’t have to pay rent, he was just happy with the company. Maybe he wanted to bum me but for free rent I’d maybe have let him. He was a bit like me and wanted to make it in the music industry, he played the guitar. Bobo was older than me by a few years but we got on pretty well, we liked the same TV shows, same music and he liked pets, so I went to see dad, Lulu and her broken neck and asked if I could take Dexter to move in with me. Dad said yes and Dexter was delighted, he jumped up and packed his stuff.
Bobo got on great with the dog, they were always playing the Playstation together. Dexter wasn’t very good because he still had dog paws but he still played as there wasn’t much else to do. We sometimes played board games but Bobo was a bad loser and after a few weeks in the flat most of the gams had been set on fire or thrown out of the window. It was great fun living with them though and nothing went wrong until one day... (this is where you go DUM DUM DUM! in a Scooby Doo style.)
Bobo was a heavy drug taker, nothing too heavy though, mostly smoking weed and taking other downers. At weekends he would go out and buy some ecstasy or cocaine. I never touched it before and hadn’t planned to but one night Dexter started smoking weed and mocked me for not trying it. I hated being laughed at so I grabbed the joint and ate the full thing. After the 2 cunts stopped rolling about on the floor laughing at me they told me that I had to smoke it and not eat it. I smoked a full joint all to myself and it was fucking brilliant! Bobo then gave me 2 valium tablets and I ate them. (because that’s what you do, think I’m a retard?)
I felt amazing, never felt so good in my life. I grabbed the other 2 wasted fuckers, ran outside and stole a car. We went cruising for chicks but I couldn’t see in front of me so we just went for a race along the motorway, Dexter had a great idea, that we should race the road. We raced the road from Edinburgh to Portsmouth but the road won. We pulled into a petrol station, filled the car up then sped away without paying. I gave the woman behind the counter a wink as I drove past, just to let her know not to mess with me. We stopped off to visit Bob’s drug dealer Conrad Murray and pick up some supplies. We got a shit load of drugs and a bottle of strawberry water then hit the road again.
I drove that car around the world for 3 years, we visited every country on the globe, some more than once, we had a week long stay in Amsterdam where we stocked up on drugs at a little cafe. We never washed and hardly ever ate, we survived by eating weed, it wasn’t ideal but we had a great time. Dexter even picked up a wife as we were driving through Peru, he didn’t mean to but I hit her as she was crossing the road, she went up the windscreen and fell through the sun-roof. Dexter nursed her back to health by feeding her weed and heroin. They left me and Bobo as we were driving through Inverness, they hadn’t been taking drugs for over 30 minutes and were feeling hungry so they abandoned us to go for lunch.
Me and Bobo decided to call it a day and go have some sleep, I drove home, parked the car up and had to crawl out of the car, it was so long since I had walked that my legs couldn’t handle it. After about 4 days I made it to my feet and made my way up the stairs, as I got to the top I slipped on an empty crisp packet and fell backwards down the stairs, I smashed my head off the concrete, split my brain open, crushed my penis under my legs and passed out.
10. Elvis
“Where the fuck am I?” I asked an old bearded man wearing a long white cloak. “You’re in fucking heaven, I’m fucking God, will you stop fucking swearing?”
Shit! I had went and fucking died, I drove all over the world, took enough drugs to put a non sleepy person to sleep and in the end a slip on the stairs had finished me off. I was gutted.
God told me to take a seat in the waiting area and someone would come and see me shortly. I sat for a while, I had a flick through some magazines and some tea from a vending machine. After about 20 minutes Vera Duckworth came to get me and took me down corridor to an office, she knocked the door, told me to smarten myself up then walked off. I was called in and greeted by Cliff Richard! “You’re no dead Cliff, you’ll never fucking die!” He looked at me and smiled, “I’m just a volunteer my dear boy, every week I come up for a few days and help out, just doing my bit.” The sneaky cunt, making sure he doesn’t go to hell for his songs. He handed me a form and asked me to fill it in, there was over 200 questions, most of them pointless, things like when was the last time I done a shit, do I want to attend Bernard Manning’s comedy club and the last question was a bit strange, asking if I had ever slept in Michael Jackson’s bed. Cliff explained that Jacko was on his way up the lift after taking an overdose of top quality Jamaican disco biscuits. Cliff checked my form over and stamped a big green tick on it. “Well done young man, you have passed the test, you can stay in heaven, come with me, I’ll show you your room.”
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