You may be wondering why I’m not on my yacht this afternoon. Instead I’m strapped to my office desk like Donald Thump is tied to the idea of his own humility. Well, wonder no more my flock. I’m here because I woke with a tremendous fear. What, I thought, would become of you all if I didn’t administer my ministrations today? How would your spiritual host suffer without divine ‘bon mots’ from your leader? How indeed.
So instead of catching Blue Marlin and dragging them astern as per Santiago in The Old Man of the Sea, I’m stifling in another Paris canicule, attending to you. I’ve attached an electric fan to my left knee and I am taking in litres of coffee through a rather neat intravenous contraption I, ‘Heath Robinson’ like, constructed this morning. I have eschewed the traditional anal method of induction, and imbibe through my ears, flooding my eustachian tubes with ‘Concentrate of Nescafe’ (four sugars minimum), giving a legal high somewhere between shoe shopping and eating emulsified lard. Sacrifices. That’s what I do, I sacrifice myself to you.
So, what existential offerings can I propose for the weekend ahead? Well, firstly, never sacrifice yourself to your congregation. Second, drop the sugar in the caffeine concentrate if you can – it blocks your inner ear, causing vertigo and a loss of balance and you might fall head first into the fan strapped to your left knee. Thirdly, carry a first aid kit at all times to stop the bleeding.
Have a great weekend my sheep!
Next week: How Post Nasal Drip inspired The Sun Always Rises.