The Reason I Was Fired As Head Boy

Years ago, at my middle school St Martin De Porres, I scored very well on the IQ tests they gave us. Why 10 year old kids were doing IQ tests is a mystery to me to this day. My rewards were an offer to go to the private school in St Albans, no girls, the cane, no thanks, and the position of Head Boy chief of all the prefects.

 I lasted a week before being fired with the promise that I would be expelled if I was involved in any fights at all in the future. Unbelievably, this was a mistake and I was blamed for something I not only had nothing to do with, but was trying to stop.

The 3 versus 4th year fight had been talked about all year. The 4th years were hard and being a 3rd year I thought the fight was not going to go well. I couldn't even leave quick. I took a cab to school and there was no guarantee it was going to be on time. My solution was to shunt the third year boys into my mate jon farrell's garden so we could hide until the marauding hoard got bored and left bloodless.

What got to the head master was that I was the fight planner and I was fired as chief swot and threatened with expulsion. Wanker.

In fairness, saying that I booed Cinderella onstage at primary school and getting fired as an altar boy for laughing is fair enough. I don't mind taking the blame for stuff I have done, its ignorant twats that make shit up that gets on my nerves.

Subprime living

At the moment there seems to be a competition for which pack of lies we based our lives on can fall apart the fastest. As ever, organized religion looks like it might weather the storm, which ironically enough proves to me if there is a God, he/she hasn't taken any readings on the celestial bullshitometer recently.

Living in a Dean Koontz novel

Its snowing. really snowing. Blizzard. It looks like a setting for one of Dean koontz's novels where the hero is a damaged man who meets a girl and is saved by a v intelligent dog. I have a very intelligent dog. I'm doomed until the last chapter.

I've learned that stage acting and MS do not mix. If I can't move, have no balance and have  memory like a spasming etch-a-sketch it doesn't work. Took me 5 and a half years to work this out. that's pretty good for me. In a whiteout world I'm actually seeing pretty clearly. Thinking not so good: and I have a feeling my dog's intelligence doesn't lie in the field of neurology. 

C'est La Vie, looks like stand up and writing are the next route. Which is good news if you like reading the blog because now I will have the time and energy to write it.