The Diary of Jeremy Part 4

October 1

I may have turned 17 quite a while ago, but my father has only just started paying for my driving lessons (thanks to his new job). The driving instructor, Roberto, was apprehensive, especially when I got the clutch and the steering wheel mixed up, but soon, I was driving along smoothly and enjoying the fresh air. Then my driving instructor told me to stop driving on the pavement because I had already killed seven people. I quickly moved back on to the road, but Roberto had to grab the wheel because all the other cars were driving on the wrong side of the road and were zooming towards me. Honestly, drivers these days!

October 2

I crashed so hard into the back of a tractor today that the tractor and the car have fused together. Roberto had several panic attacks and is being rushed to hospital.

October 3

Roberto has recovered. Just in time for my next lesson. I was shouted at for taking both hands off the steering wheel to tie my shoe laces as we were tearing along the motorway.

October 4

Roberto has retired after I took a shortcut through Ronald’s house today and ran over Ronald as he was removing his pants for his daily spanking. Jack came and arrested me for running over Fluffy. Ronald was given a spanking for standing in the way of a moving vehicle.

October 5

I have been given community service. I have to pick litter up with some strange picking instrument. I was testing it but I accidentally got my tongue stuck in it and managed to pick no litter up. I’m the first person who has been fired from community service.

October 6

Ever since I have started my driving lessons, deaths caused by speeding, erratic, out of control car collisions have risen by 110%. I doubt there is a connection.

October 7

‘To be frank, I am appalled. I have never met someone who drives as abysmal as you, Jeremy, nor have I ever met someone who gets strangled by their seat belts as often as you do. Since you have started your tests, the death rate in this town has soared. You often take your hands off the steering wheel to flick through your Star Wars magazine, sometimes you get scared and drive with your eyes closed, and when reversing, you often don’t stop until you have knocked several unwary pedestrians flying. I also do not approve of you asking me to grab the steering wheel whilst you pleasure yourself over a picture of Chewbacca. The pavement, as I have repeatedly said, is not a road, and you are forbidden from ever driving your car on it, no matter how scared of other cars you are. I also forbid you from ever bringing your geeky friends with you and leaving the wheel unattended (whilst we are hurtling down the motorway) to clamber into the back seat and argue with Lawrence and Herbert about some geeky subject. And never, I repeat never, mistake my crotch for the handbrake again. Should you ever do that, I shall make sure you never drive a car in your life.’

That’s what Roberto said to me today after my latest driving lesson. I don’t think he’s too fond of me.

October 8

I managed 100 m/ph on a small village road today. Roberto had a nervous breakdown.

October 9

Parked my car diagonally across the entire road as I went for a cup of tea. When I came back, there was a traffic jam thirteen miles long as no one could get past.

October 10

Accidentally tore into a farm at high speed today. Collided with a horse and four cows. One of them somehow ended up in the back seat of the car. Roberto said he’d had enough, got out of the car and sat down in the middle of the field. A cow sat on him.

October 11

Driving lessons have been suspended permanently after I accidentally drove off the top of a multi-storey car park. My dad has gone ballistic. He threw me into the basement, then rushed down and threw me out because he was opening his bar down there.

October 12

I decided to be a rebel and drive my car without a license. I ran over Eugene and reversed over him. Accidentally fell out of the car. The car reversed over me.

October 13

I’ve just realised – I haven’t even had sex in a dream yet. That’s how sad and geeky I am. My penis is now so small that I can’t even masturbate. My poor sperm must be getting bored in there.

October 14

My father asked me today when was I going to be moving out because I was hindering his new career. When I told him I loved him very much and never wanted to move out, he had a heart attack and was rushed to hospital. When the doctors learned that I was responsible, they sent some people with guns in search of him. I’d better keep a low profile. I’ll hide in my house – it’s so obvious, it’ll be the last place they look.

Update: It was the first place they looked. They came and shot me. I am being rushed to a private clinic.

Update: The doctor said I was extremely lucky. The bullets had penetrated my skin but not damaged any internal organs because there was a large metal pipe in my stomach that had stopped them. Bruce had made me eat that pipe a few years ago, so I thanked him for saving my life. He played rugby with me as the ball.

October 15

Went for a drive today. Ran over a lollipop man by accident.

October 16

Herbert, Lawrence and I went camping. We used Lawrence’s caravan and I drove the car. We lost the caravan as we drove up a hill because someone hadn’t secured it probably, and it rolled backwards, obliterating a nice neighbourhood. We didn’t have very many accidents on the way to the camping site, although someone put a pedestrianised street in my way and I ran over three old men who couldn’t get out of the way in time. Then a police car decided to join in the fun and raced me, sirens blaring, but I won the race when the police car refused to follow my car into a busy shopping centre and down the escalators.
    The camping site was fun. We put up our tents, although Lawrence broke his finger zipping up his, and then we went to the nearby swimming pool to have some fun. Herbert caused a huge queue on the diving boards because he was too scared to jump off; I slipped on the floor and smashed my face, and Lawrence accidentally drowned a lifeguard. We went back to our tents and got an early night. We hadn’t realised that we had put them up in the middle of a road, and several cars ran over us. I moved my tent to a different location. A train ran over it.

October 17

Herbert, Lawrence and I went for a stroll in the woods to appreciate how wonderful nature is. A badger chased me up a tree. I’m now stuck there.

October 18

I’m still stuck up the tree. Herbert and Lawrence put a trampoline below the tree and told me to jump. I jumped and landed on the trampoline, but bounced back up into the tree.

October 19

Still in the tree. A bee stung my penis and now it’s red and swollen. At least it’s slightly bigger now…

October 20

Why has nobody come to rescue me? I phoned the speaking clock because I was feeling lonely, but it told me to go away and stop being annoying.

October 21

I tried to climb down the tree but accidentally went further up. Lawrence and Herbert have called the fire brigade. They had to pretend I was a cat, because they refused to rescue geeks from trees.

Update: The fire men propped up a ladder against the tree. I tried to climb down but missed the ladder and fell to the ground. I broke every bone in my body.

October 24

I’ve just been allowed out of intensive care. I can’t walk so I have to use a wheelchair. My father picked me up, but he was so drunk he collapsed so I had to push him home in the wheelchair.

October 25

Herbert has kindly said he would push me around in my wheelchair. He accidentally left me in the doorway to college and the sliding door slammed shut on me repeatedly. I phoned 999. They told me I had the wrong number.

October 26

I’m surprised I can still write with every single bone in my body broken.

October 27

Herbert accidentally folded me up along with my wheelchair today. My spine would have snapped if it hadn’t already been broken.

October 31

Finally, my bones have healed. Herbert, Lawrence and I went trick or treating. We met up with Eugene, Ronald and Duncan along the way, so they regrettably tagged along as well. Eugene got his genitals stuck in a letterbox; Ronald tripped over a garden gnome and his mouth landed on another gnome, getting it wedged in there; Bruce located us and suffocated Herbert with his trick-or-treat bag and slammed a pumpkin on Lawrence’s head; Ronald started crying; Duncan tried to act cool by slapping Bruce on the back; Bruce responded violently by seeing how times he could ram Duncan’s head into a door before it opened (we’re on three thousand and twenty, and still counting – it’s a titanium door); I tripped over my drunken father and landed in the road; a speeding car ran over my head; Lawrence fell over backwards from the weight of the pumpkin and broke his spine; Herbert had turned blue; Eugene’s penis had turned blue; Ronald accidentally swallowed the gnome; Terence appeared and was sick everywhere; Duncan said, ‘Oh, Bruce, you’re so funny you make me ribs hurt’; Bruce made Duncan’s ribs hurt even more by hitting him with a spade; Jack appeared and angrily told Ronald that it was way past his bedtime and he was going to get such a spanking he wouldn’t be able to sit down for three months; Herbert had turned purple; a steamroller ran over my head; Terence choked on his own sick; we were all rushed to hospital. The hospital manager had a fit when he saw us. He was rushed to the morgue. When I got home, Leroy ate all my sweets.

November 1

The postman complained that he couldn’t post any letters to a Number 43, Kennedy Street because there was a teenage boy standing there with his penis inserted into the letterbox.

November 2

Leroy is ill from all those sweets he ate. He was sick everywhere. Terence was sick everywhere. I was sick from all the sick.

November 3

Eugene has been removed from the letterbox. His penis has turned black. Serves him right for being my rival.

November 5

Bonfire Night! Oh, what excitement! Lawrence, Herbert and I had a bonfire display in the basement. After the fireworks started ricocheted off the walls and nearly killed us, we decided to relocate outside. Leroy looked a bit scared so I gave him a firework. His hooves couldn’t hold it, and he nearly exploded, the poor critter. We then had a huge bonfire. Bruce came over and threw me into it. Lawrence tried to put the fire out by turning the hosepipe on. He hosed himself in the face. Herbert tripped over the hosepipe and smashed his face on the flags. We were all rushed to hospital. The ambulance deliberately trundled along happily, admiring the fireworks, even though I was still on fire and slowly melting.

Update: Still on fire. I jumped out of the ambulance and jumped into a car. I put my driving abilities to the test and started to zoom towards the hospital. Crashed into the back of the ambulance. Killed a paramedic.

Second Update: Jumped into a canal and put out the fire. Can’t get out. The sides are too steep. No one will help me. They think I’m a large fish.

Third Update: My father was walking by drunkenly and fished me out. I am horribly burned. Rushed myself to the police station to give a report on how atrocious the ambulances in the area are. The police sent a squad car to arrest the paramedics. It ran over me as it tore out of the station.

November 10

Only just got out of hospital. I had to go to a hospital in Peru because no one else would have me. Apparently, I am Number 2 on the World’s Most Wanted List.

November 11

I slipped on some ice and got ran over by a milk float. I was rushed to hospital. I am now Number 1 on the World’s Most Wanted List.

November 12

I went on a trip to the museum today. Bruce delighted in making me wear cavemen costumes and then stuffing me into exhibits, but then he got bored of that and crammed me inside a dinosaur skeleton, and it took the museum two hours three hours to free me because one of the bones had wedged itself firmly up my rear end. Herbert gently knocked the seismograph and caused major earthquakes; Lawrence slipped on the polished floor and smashed his face; Ronald accidentally got himself entangled up in the velvet rope that protected the exhibits; Bruce replaced the sign for the toilet with one that said, ‘Special Exhibit, This Way’, and everyone crammed into the toilets with such force that Eugene got stuffed down an actual toilet and got stuck in the U-bend, disfiguring his spine horribly (and most probably permanently); Duncan tried to copy Bruce by making rude changes to unique and expensive paintings, but he just got arrested by Jack; Fergus was there and used a vital dinosaur bone to play fetch with Brutus, with the result that the entire skeleton collapsed on top of Lawrence, killing him; Bruce revived Lawrence by standing on his head; I got trapped in a sarcophagus, and the tour guides started to get slightly annoyed when everyone started saying, ‘Can we examine a close up picture of Uranus, please.’ The museum curator committed suicide.

November 13

I showed Kelly the scars I had received from the museum incident yesterday. She looked quite impressed.

November 14

Bruce pulled my pants down in the canteen, and everyone saw my atrociously small penis. Kelly didn’t look too impressed.

November 15

I got my college progress card today. It said:

I cannot call this a progress report because Jeremy has made absolutely no progress. I suggest putting him up for adoption whilst you still have the chance.

I fed it to Leroy.

November 16

Bruce stripped me naked, crammed me into the photocopier and then printed out thousands of images of my genitals. He then supplied people with magnifying glasses so people could see my genitals more clearly, because they are bordering on microscopic.

November 17

I have decided, my genitals are too small. We geeks had a meeting where we compared sizes. Eugene’s was the biggest, though I suspect that was because he was tugging on it frantically. Herbert’s was grotesquely disfigured. Ronald’s looked broken. I couldn’t even see Lawrence’s, it was that small. I measured my own – it was 22 cm. Not bad, I thought to myself…until I realised it was only 22 mm.

November 18

I now have to use a magnifying glass to see my genitals! I held it there for too long, though, and it caught fire. I poured a glass of water over it to put the fire out. My penis shrank even further.

November 19

I thought of a plan to make my genitals longer. I attached some rope to my penis and then tied the other end around Leroy’s horns. I then gave Leroy a kick up the rear end. Leroy leapt forwards suddenly, yanking my genitals. The most excruciating pain in existence followed.

Update: Well, there’s bad news and good news. The good news is that it’s a bit bigger. The bad news is that it no longer works.

November 20

I fed myself copious amounts of Viagra to try and make it work. No such luck. I think it’s dead.

November 21

I saw Kelly naked in the changing room today, and still it didn’t stir. It’s turning black as well. Now it looks like I’ll never have sex.

Update: Maybe it’s just broken. I tried to use a wrench to get it working again, but I just got it stuck there.

November 22

Success! I told Kelly about my recent penile problem, and she seemed sympathetic. She said that it didn’t matter how small (or how broken) my penis was, because a girl – somewhere – would go out with me. I asked her if she was that girl. ‘In your dreams, freak,’ was her response.

November 23

After watching a nature documentary about endangered animals, I have decided to start up a wildlife rehabilitation clinic, where I rescue wild animals that are sick, nurse them to health, and then release them. I went out in search of suitable animals. I found a dog tethered to a lamppost outside a shop and rescued it, and then I pounced on a badger in the woods and brought that back to the house. Leroy didn’t seem too pleased with the new residents, and neither did my dad, especially after he tripped over the badger and flew down the stairs at shocking speed, breaking his skull.

November 24

I seem to have rescued a few too many animals. The badger made his way into the basement and completely destroyed by Star Wars collection; the stags are rutting in the living room, knocking furniture over everywhere; the squid seem to have dried out in the conservatory; the raccoon has raided the fridge; the possums have multiplied phenomenally, and the beaver (whom I have affectionately called Noland) has started to chew down the house.

November 25

The neighbours weren’t happy when the possums invaded their house. They have called social services because they saw me getting trampled on by the stags. My dad won’t be happy when he wakes up from his coma and hears about this…

November 26

My dad had a fit. He fell into a coma.

November 27

All the water-borne creatures seem to have perished, including Jeffrey and the manatee. There are faeces everywhere, animals are breeding with each other, Lawrence has become engulfed by the possums, and the raccoons seem to have drank too much of my father’s beer and have become drunk.

November 28

Social services came round again to survey the condition of my house. I tried to get rid of the animals before the man came, but a stag headbutted me up the chimney, and a helicopter had to be called to wench me out.

November 29

The raccoons ate my diary. I’m writing this on my forehead.

November 30

I invited Kelly round to my house to watch Star Wars. She got attacked by the badger, but I rescued her and now she loves me! Well, not quite, but she said:

‘Thanks. Hey, you’re kind of cute. No, wait, that’s because I’ve got badger fur in my eye. Let me take it out… Nope, you’re ugly. Sorry’.

I suggested that she might need glasses to see how attractive I was. I leant her mine. She said:

‘Eww, that’s even worse. What’s that on your face? It’s your nose! Eww, disgusting!’

To make matters worse, without my glasses, I was utterly blind. I fell down the stairs at ludicrously high speeds.


December 1

We got a letter from social services today. It said, in large, bold, capital letters:

Dear Mr Geekson,
                            I am truly appalled. Not only have conditions not improved since I last visited, but they have worsened drastically! The house contains no running water, I found several wild animals running amok throughout the house (one of which, a badger, savagely attacked me), your alcoholism is as bad as ever, what seems to be a beaver is rapidly demolishing the left side of your house, the ambulance outside is home to several youths of the geeky nature, there is still a goat outside, and the mound of dead rats inhabiting the basement remains. I’m afraid I have no choice but to send professionals round to your house tomorrow to remove the animals.

Yours, with regret (and considerable annoyance),

Mr Alan Reeves

No! How can this be? They can’t take away Leroy! I’d rather give them Lawrence. I chained Leroy tightly and securely to a post, but he chewed his way out of it.

December 2

The people came round to remove the animals. I wasn’t too bothered about them taking the other animals (although I said a sad farewell to Noland the beaver), but I refused to give up Leroy without a fight. After they swiftly won the fight, I grabbed Leroy and ran out into the street with him. We’ll run away together if we have to.

December 3

We made it to the airport, Leroy and I. We were turned away because they wouldn’t let a goat on the plane. I dressed Leroy up as a geek and tried again. They wouldn’t let geeks on the plane.

December 4

I had to give Leroy my underpants to eat because he is hungry.

December 5

Running away from home is harder than it looks. For one thing, Leroy is atrociously slow, so we are trudging away rather than running. There is very little food to eat as well, although I guess I could eat Leroy if I got too hungry. At least I have someone warm to sleep next to at night.

December 6

Leroy and I spent all day frolicking in the fields. I think I may be becoming sexually attracted to him.

December 7

Leroy got run over by a steamroller and is smeared across the road. Time to go home.

December 8

The best news ever!! I have been selected (out of three hopefuls) to play a tiny part in Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith! How excited am I? I’ll tell you – very excited! I was so excited I danced around the canteen until someone threw a table at me.

December 9

Filming has begun! I am playing a human appearing in a fight scene on Kashyyyk.

Take 1: I got so excited I fainted.

Take 2: I messed up my only line (‘Aaarrgh!) and said, ‘Yay!’ instead, which is not really the response someone getting sliced in half would say.

Take 3: Put a Wookiee costume on, couldn’t see where I was going, fell down a flight of stairs and smashed my face on the concrete.

Take 4: The director strangled me because I was sleeping.

Take 5: Started pleasuring myself because I didn’t realise the film was rolling. The director came over and strangled me.

Take 6: The director strangled me because I said, ‘I need a wee’.

Take 7: The director strangled me because I said, ‘I’ve wet myself’.

Take 8: The director strangled me because I said, ‘Hah, Eugene. I’m on TV and you’re probably not!’

Take 9: The director strangled me because I accidentally cut myself in half.

Take 10: The director strangled me because I broke the Yoda puppet.

Take 11: The director strangled me because I said, ‘I can’t concentrate with all these microphones and cameras being pointed at me.’ The director responded with, ‘For god sake, you pathetic geek! You have a single, simple line to say and yet you find uttering it seem like the most difficult thing in the world! How hard can it be to say, ‘Aaarrgh!’ and fall over??’ I think he’s a bit too hard on his very talented cast.

Take 12: The director committed suicide when I accidentally killed Obi Wan Kenobi.

I was thrown from the studio. My dream of being in a Star Wars film has ended!

December 10

Bruce forced me to eat some bacon that expired 15th October 1978, and I am now violently ill. I was sick in Lawrence’s face and had diarrhoea in Herbert’s face at the same time. My very confused stomach was expelling its contents in every way possible – some even leaked out of my belly button.

December 11

I’ve never felt so bad! My stomach keeps churning. I went to the doctors. He gave me some laxatives. For some reason, he was chuckling while he handed me them. I don’t know why.

Update: I know why now. My entire bathroom is brown.

December 12

Still ill. Everything is pouring out of my mouth and my anus. I’m surprise that there’s anything left in my body anymore.

December 13

Bruce clogged up my mouth and anus. I think I’m going to explode from the pressure.

Update: I’ve exploded. I’m being rushed to hospital.

December 14

Eugene has become a snooker player. I am not happy. Girls will be swarming all over him now that he’s a professional sports player. If I’m ever to win the heart of Kelly, I’ll have to impress her with my sporting skills. I have decided to try out a number of sports:

Football: Who knew that football was so difficult? It involves so much running, and people kept mistaking my head for the ball and they kept kicking me down the pitch. Eventually, I was given the job of linesman to prevent myself from receiving more injuries, but I raised the flag so fast (for nothing, the referee later said) that I dislocated my shoulder.

Tennis: Herbert was my partner in tennis. We were both atrocious. I dislocated my dislocated shoulder, and Herbert got constricted in the net with such vigour that his organs seem to be seeping from his orifices. We called an ambulance, but they said the hospital was closed for Bank Holiday. I told them it was December 14th. They put the phone down.

Baseball: I successful hit the ball with my bat into my groin. The ball has embedded itself in my genitals.

Rugby: After seeing how brutal rugby was, I decided not to play it. After seeing how scared I was, Bruce threw me into the middle of a rugby scrum.

Bowling: I accidentally bowled myself down the bowling lane.

Swimming: I decided to try the super shallow end of the pool to start off with (4 cm deep), but almost drowned trying to retrieve my underwear when they slipped off.

Jogging: I jogged from the changing rooms to the starting line and became so tired I had to rest for an hour.

Sitting: I successful sat on a chair for three hours without a single incident.

Rushing to Hospital: Oh, how I wish that were a sport. If it were, I’m sure I would be an expert at it now.

I saw Eugene’s smug face in the changing rooms as he bragged about coming 57th in the snooker tournament. I laughed later on when I saw there were only 57 players in the tournament. You can’t get any worse than that!

December 15

I took Terence’s place in the snooker tournament because he was more sick than usual. I came 58th. How is that even possible?? When I complained to the referee about it, he said Ronald’s invisible friend, Grayham, had done better than me. Grayham isn’t even real!! I congratulated Grayham and then sulked in the changing rooms.

December 16

The majority of college has caught my illness. Everyone is being sick everywhere. I think Lawrence has thrown his intestines up.

December 17

Eugene has fallen ill and I have been chosen to represent him in the snooker championship. I rose to the challenge. The referee kept saying things to me and getting very angry:

·          ‘You cannot pick up the white ball and place it wherever you wish, and you especially cannot put it down your pants to make your pathetically small genitals look bigger.’
·          ‘Stop choking on the white ball. It shouldn’t have been put in your mouth in the first place.’
·          ‘Please don’t get the snooker cue lodged up your own nose.’
·          ‘Please stop attacking the opposition with your snooker cue.’
·          ‘Please don’t urinate on the table.’
·          ‘Please don’t blame your recent urination on a weak bladder.’
·          ‘Put your genitals away!’
·          ‘Stop measuring your penis!’
·          ‘GET YOUR GENITALS OFF THE TABLE!’
·          ‘Tell Herbert to get his genitals off the table.’
·          ‘Don’t lie on the table.’
·          ‘Take the cue ball out of your anus!’
·          ‘Somebody call an ambulance, he’s got the cue ball stuck up his anus.’
·          ‘Somebody call an ambulance, the paramedics have whacked him over the head with the snooker cue.’
·          ‘I really don’t care about Leroy, Noland or any other animal, nor do I care about your social and family problems, and nor do I care about the extreme nosebleed that you are currently having. Actually play snooker!’
·          ‘The excuse, ‘Boy, it’s hot in here’ is not an excuse to remove your clothes.’
·          ‘Don’t get trapped under the table.’
·          ‘GET YOUR GENITALS OFF THE TABLE!’

My opponent won in the end. I somehow managed to get a minus score because I’d lost three balls and got my head stuck in the triangle.

December 18

I decided to write a Christmas card to my dear old friend, Pierre, who I exchanged countries with several months ago.

Dear Pierre (it said),
                              Hope all is well in France, and that all of your sheep have been rounded up safely. I enjoyed my stay in France, as I was able to escape the horrors of school and my family. In case you are wondering, all is well here in England. Lawrence, Herbert and I are still friends. Eugene and Ronald are still our rivals, but now they’ve recruited a new member: Duncan! He’s the biggest geek I’ve ever seen. Bruce is still bullying us, of course. Anyway, thought I’d say Merry Christmas. You’re welcome to come and stay at our house for Christmas, if you so wish.
Reply soon,
Yours,
Jeremy Geekson

I tried to lick the envelope, but I got a paper cut on my tongue and started bleeding everywhere. 

December 19

My father and I put the Christmas tree up today. Then we had to turn it around because we realised we had put it up upside down. Then we had to remove Lawrence from the branches because he’d somehow got stuck in there. My dad said we were slightly low on money this year, so we were unable to decorate it.

December 20

Got a reply from Pierre today. It said:

Dear Jeremy (aka Dickhead),
                                              My father and I would be happy to come round to your house for Christmas and kill…I mean, er…enjoy this festive period with you. My father’s heart is still terrible (thanks to you), and the sheep are still popping up in annoying places. To thank you for everything you have done to us…I mean, for us, it would be our pleasure to return to your horrible…er, delightful country and slaughter you all…I mean, see you all, of course. Pardon my atrocious spelling.

Yours (angrily),
Pierre

Aww, look at him. He can’t wait to see us. Well, it’s going to be a great Christmas this year. I’ll invite everyone round for Christmas Day and we can all have a huge party.

December 21

Christmas is so close now, I realise! I’ve left my father hints around the house that I want the new Star Wars Gallactic Battleship (only £312!!), but I don’t think he’s got the hint yet: he keeps tearing them up with a furious expression on his face.

December 22

Only 3 more days to go until Christmas! I got a nice Christmas card from the hospital staff today. It said:

Dear Jeremy,
                    If you ever come to this hospital again, I’ll sign you up for organ donation…whilst you are still alive! Hope you have a dreadful Christmas.

Yours,
The 52nd Hospital Manager in 11 months

December 23

Only 2 more days to go until Christmas! I could wet myself in excitement.

Update: I have done.

December 24

Too excited to write much. Fell downstairs. Cracked head open. Christmas tomorrow. Need poo. Poo won’t come out. Need laxatives. Poo coming out very easily. Poo everywhere. Father has arrived. Sick everywhere.

December 25

Christmas Day! What a chaotic day it has been! I eagerly opened my presents (an orange and a pencil), frantically looked around for my Star Wars Galactic Battleship, and then cried when I realised my father hadn’t bought me it. He told me his job as a porn star wasn’t paying as much as he hoped, especially now that he had become impotent.
    Then, the real fun began. I invited Herbert, Lawrence, Terence, Kelly and Jessica round to my house for Christmas dinner, but alas, Eugene, Ronald and Duncan also invited themselves round. My dad served quail (we couldn’t afford turkey), and had to split it between the ten of us. Eugene was very annoying and kept talking about his brand new computer, and how much porn he downloads every night (1000 gigabytes, he says); Ronald started crying and saying my father was much better than his, and Herbert tried to impress Kelly with his plate juggling skills (or, lack of, I should say). Stupid Herbert! We’ll have a big fall out if this continues. Kelly is mine! Herbert is free to have Jessica if he so pleases.
    To court Kelly, I strategically placed some mistletoe around the house in the hope that she and myself would end up beneath it, but she seemed to be avoiding it carefully, and I foolishly ended up beneath the mistletoe with Lawrence. I was forced to kiss him, and Eugene took a picture of us. Come January, that picture will be all around college, I can guarantee it, and Bruce will be pounding us perpetually. 
    We then played some Christmas games. We pulled some crackers (Lawrence broke his wrist, and was rushed nowhere), and then twister (Duncan, trying to be cool, said, ‘Right hand purple’, and I twisted my spine frantically trying to search for it, before realising there wasn’t even a purple circle on the mat), and then we all played scrabble with Lawrence’s Deluxe Scrabble Board. By this time, my father was phenomenally drunk and his words (such as ‘Tysdhu’) didn’t even make sense, all I could spell was ‘geek’, and then Terence was sick all over the scrabble board so it didn’t matter anyway.
    But then, just as everyone was about to leave, Pierre and his father arrived, carrying guns. They looked like they were in a pleasant mood.

Update: I probably shouldn’t have invited Pierre and his father.

December 26

Pierre and his father held us hostage all night. He said he was here to enact his revenge on me and my friends for what they had done to his family. When I said, ‘How’s the combine harvester?’, they shot at me! The neighbours heard and phoned the house to tell Pierre and his father to kill me faster because they were trying to get some sleep.
    We were tied up. They tied Ronald up too tightly and he went blue. They said they would kill us one by one until they felt satisfied we would trouble them no more. They pointed the gun at Kelly. A bubble of rage built up inside me! No! They couldn’t kill Kelly! I leapt up and launched myself at Pierre. I smashed my face on the floor because my legs were tied up. Suddenly, Herbert managed to squirm free and provided a distraction by running, screaming, into the garden. I quickly found a knife and cut the ropes. I stood up, trying to work out what to do. The others shouted helpful advise:
    ‘Untie us, you freak!’ shouted Jessica.
    ‘Get the gun off Pierre and I might consider being nice to you once in a while!’ shouted Kelly.
    ‘Ahhhhh!’ cried Herbert as he ran back into the room, with Pierre’s father right behind him.
    ‘I’m so sad and pathetic!’ Ronald wailed.
    ‘I’ve broken my ribs!’ Lawrence moaned.
    ‘Blargh!’ Terrence exclaimed, as he was sick everywhere.
    In the end, I decided to go to the toilet because I really needed a poo. When I returned to the room, there were people running around everywhere. Pierre was firing the gun madly; Ronald was crying in a corner; Herbert tripped over his own head as he ran towards Pierre’s father; Duncan tried to punch Pierre, but accidentally kicked Eugene, and my father was unconscious on the floor. I decided to be a hero. I ran at full speed at Pierre, hoping to tackle him to the ground. I missed atrociously, but bounced off a wall and hit Pierre in the back.
    I did it! I defeated Pierre! His father grabbed the gun, and started shooting. I jumped out of the way, collided with the Christmas tree and knocked it into the fireplace. The house quickly got set on fire. There was smoke and gunshots and bodies and projectile vomit everywhere. I’m sitting outside now, watching my house burn to the ground. I hope everyone else makes it… Well, I wouldn’t mind if Pierre or Eugene perished in the flames…

December 27

Tragedy has struck! Jessica was killed in the fire. Oh, how I wailed and cried when the firemen brought her blackened, charred body out for us to see. Pierre died as well. Hah, serves him right. And he died in a very embarrassing way: he slipped on some sick and got wedged behind the sofa, unable to escape. Everyone else made it, thankfully. Oh, poor Jessica! I’m sorry for ever forsaking you in favour of Kelly! But enough about her, what about my extensive Star Wars collection?? Everything is destroyed! I’m so miserable, I doubt I’ll ever write in this diary again.

December 28

Still incredibly miserable. Even my Star Wars tissues (with Chewbacca embroided on them) have been destroyed, so I can’t masturbate to try and cheer myself up.

December 29

I don’t believe it! Kelly must have banged her head whilst trying to escape the fire, because she suddenly loves geeks. She says she can’t get enough of Herbert, Lawrence and me. She even let me touch her breast (for a nanosecond). I asked her out and she said yes. SHE SAID YES!! I’m the happiest geek in the world.

Update: I’m the most miserable geek in the world. Kelly’s father is making her move out of town because he doesn’t approve of her hanging around with geeks and nearly getting killed in burning houses. She said she’ll return when she’s eighteen so we can continue our relationship. I’ll wait forever for her if I have to. Ooh, Gavin’s sister, Gertrude, looks quite attractive. I might try my luck with her…

December 30

It was Jessica’s funeral today. It was a very sad occasion. I put a dandelion on her grave (I can’t afford a rose) and said a little prayer:

‘Dear Lord,
                Please watch over whatever her name is in heaven. And please, please, please, PLEASE, could you build me a new house and give me some brand new Star Wars toys. And stop Bruce from bullying me as we approach a new year. And kill Eugene for me, will you?

Amen.’

It was Pierre’s funeral as well. He was being buried in England because France has been overrun by the black plague. I tried to spit on his grave, but I just ended up dribbling all over myself.

December 31

The last day of 2003 is upon us! Herbert had a huge party. Everyone was invited, and things could out of control when Bruce and Malcolm started juggling geeks. Things were being thrown everywhere; Ronald was used as a footstool; people were skiing down the stairs; Bruce made me sing ’99 million bottles on a wall’ until my voice stopped working; Gavin bummed Eugene with such vigour that something exploded inside him; Fergus and Brutus arrived to join the fun; Lawrence tried to tell Fergus about the new Dungeons and Dragons rulebook edition; Brutus savaged Lawrence’s genitals; I tried to chat up Gertrude, but she stood on my foot and crushed it; Bruce stood on my other foot and crushed it; I fell and smashed my nose on the floor; Gerbert arrived, saying he needed a break from being an aspiring world dominator; Terence was sick in Herbert’s wine glass; Herbert drank it; Herbert was sick everywhere; there was a news report about a supposed alien spaceship that had crash landed in London after its occupant had been preoccupied with watching the fireworks, although an eyewitness named Kevin insisted that that hadn’t been the case and that the alien in question had probably fallen asleep at the controls; Brutus urinated in my mouth; Jack came and spanked Ronald for staying up past his bedtime; Gavin bummed everyone; there was sick, faeces, urine and semen everywhere; it was all gathered together and poured down my pants; I hurtled down the stairs and smashed my face against the wall; nobody cared; Bruce punched Duncan through a wall; Duncan said, ‘Oh, Bruce, what a funny guy you are,’ but then had to be rushed to hospital due to fatal brain damage.
    Finally, it’s almost midnight. Ten…nine…eight…ooh, can’t wait for the New Year…seven…what shall be resolutions be, I wonder…six…I should give up being rushed to hospital… five…yes, that’s what I’ll do…four…three…two… two… two? No, the clocks stopped! I’m still in 2003. Why must this always happen to me? Bruce slammed my head into the clock and it started working again. It’s 2004!
    I started dancing, but tripped and smashed my face on the floor. I was rushed to hospital. I was rushed to a crematorium. They started to burn me. I was rushed to hospital. All of the hospital staff committed suicide.