fictional-comic-sci-fi

Shit Tim Wood.

First,let me put my cards on the table: I am not a writer. Here is an example of my daily literary endeavors as delivered to my local bookmakers:
(3 £1 x doubles and a £2 treble)
I am a lazy person by nature as were my parents and grandparents.
I've heard it said that you would need to go back hundreds of years to find one of my relations who had a proper job. As I said I am lazy by nature and putting pen to paper to relate this story is difficult and tiring for me.I hope you,the reader,will not feel the same way about reading it.
This story is one which should concern everybody in the civilized World.
I am forced,on this occasion, to be industrious by accident.
You will not find any descriptive stuff amongst these pages because I don't like it and I can't do it.I should advise you to stop reading now if you are offended by bad language or should you be of a nervous disposition.

It was 7:40 pm on a sunny summer evening in May. The Champions League Final was due to start in five minutes. I was well prepared. I sat in my old armchair with a case of lager and a half bottle of vodka within reach of my right arm and my tobacco and spliff on my left.
I made a decision at that moment which changed my life: I decided that I would close the curtains, thinking it would improve the picture on my old telly.
What I saw from my window didn't,at first, frighten me.I assumed the giant cup-shaped thing which landed on the field I overlook was a balloon advertising tea-bags.