One always hopes to leave something of an impression on those who are most important to you. So when I return from Sweden last week and Amki says to me “You haven’t posted a blog this week, honey.” what do I say? I think what I actually said was “Erm… no my love… I was with you. Don’t you remember?” Please tell me our time together meant something! Is she losing her mind? Am I?
All she meant of course was that I should have posted when I returned, and I’m sure she’s right, maybe I should have, but I post on a Sunday and it’s a schedule I like to stick to wherever possible. Imagine my surprise then when I logged in to check my blog traffic and found it had increased dramatically while I was away; tripled even. Which, I admit, would still make my readership roughly equivalent to the number of teenagers who read the nutritional information on the side of a Special Edition: Sprouts & Lard Pot Noodle, but an increase it is nonetheless and I had to wonder why.
It turns out that all the traffic was to one particular post I wrote many months ago about the miracle power of Sudocrem. Why? Well, apparently Sudocrem has been hitting the headlines of late, as a superior substitute to the far more expensive anti-ageing creams, peddled by the very same people who gave you that terrible complexion in the first place: Make-up companies.
So there you are… When the day comes that you are thanking Sudocrem for the reason you are going through puberty again at the age of 65… remember that you heard about its miracle powers from me first.
Perhaps I should approach Sudocrem and ask them for a job as a marketing copywriter. I seem to have approached everyone else for employment this week. Ideally I need a job that I can do from wherever I am in the world that has an internet connection. I’m open to suggestions if anyone has any. And before any clever soul suggests time-travelling… I have thought this through, and I’ll give you a scenario:
Mrs Johnson: “Oh, thank God you’re here! I found your number in the Yellow Pages and I simply had to call! My husband was killed in an accident at work yesterday. You have to go back and prevent it!”
Time Traveller: “I’ll do what I can ma’am!”
2 days later, following the successful completion of his task, the time traveller returns to collect his pay
Mrs Johnson: “What are you talking about? My husband didn’t even go into work yesterday! Get away from my front door, you crackpot… before I call the police!”
You see? It just doesn’t work. But if there are any useful suggestions, I’m all ears.
Still… while we’re on the subject of time-travellers, those who follow this blog, and its accompanying video channel regularly might be wondering where the latest video has got to. However, in the much more likely event that you stumbled upon this blog whilst staring at the ingredients on a tub of Sudocrem, wondering if it can really heal those unsightly cracks, then let me say two things: Firstly, the one in your ass is supposed to be there! Don’t worry about applying it to your baby’s nappy rash; I can assure you it works, and no harm will come to your children. Secondly, we are still looking for an abandoned location to film the scene where I finally return from the grave. Incidentally… if we happen to find such a location in the next week or so, allow me to assure any Christians out there that my returning from the dead around Easter is merely a COINCIDENCE! It was in no way planned to coincide with “implausible resurrection festival”. 😉 Everyone knows that Easter should be all about chocolate eggs and scary bunny rabbits (which don’t lay eggs… so I have to wonder who thought this up. Answers in the comments section please).
I think I’ve upset enough people for one day, so I’ll go now before those people carrying torches and a noose turn up at my door. For anyone who is still not upset, there is a new page on this blog; explaining all about the people I mention most often in these posts.
It’s been a fun week of penniless-ness and job-hunting… wondering how I’m supposed to show my girlfriend a good time during her upcoming visit when I can’t even afford bread for my dust-bunny sandwiches. Still… she probably won’t remember being here once she’s been back home for 24 hours, so I could probably just say “We went to the moon but the souvenir shop was closed” and she would be none the wiser (I just received a text from her as I wrote that, so I’m quite scared she might be able to read minds now).
I hope you remembered to put your clock forward and, if you’re interested, there is a wonderful celestial event tomorrow night. For anyone lucky enough to have clear skies, it should look something like this (without the lines, obviously).
I’m going now.