Just Say Yes

Well, I haven't written anything the past few weeks because I am busy writing the sketches for Edinburgh, which I won't post here because some aren't completed and...yeah.

Anyway, I came up with a novel idea for a 100% complete rape eradication from the world the other day. It could have a a marketing campaign and everything. The slogan is simply, "Just say yes."

If everyone said yes to every request for someone to sleep with them, there would be no rape to speak of and a huge decrease in crime. Genius, I think you'll agree. With absolutely no problems at all.

Alternatively, my other slogan for this campaign was, "Rape them back." in order to give the bullies a taste of their own medicine. both slogans work well I think and were I pushing for PM at the moment, this would be in my manifesto.

Brown, Cameron, Clegg...you know what to do.

The Dentist and My First Dead Tooth

Today I visited the dentist for...about the eighth time in 4 months. To be fair it was the first time in 3 months but the month previous to that was a hectic one. Nobody should be able to banter with their dentist and remember last time you met. This is because most dentist's advise a 6 month check-up. Well, my dentist knows me now. To the extent where he looked pleased to see me when I walked in and asked how I was since a couple of months ago. He never used to remember me and that's the way it should be. But now I swear we are only a few more meetings away from going out for a drink.

This, I think, is how cancer patients must begin to feel when they keep having to go and see the same doctor. I doubt it's the cancer that actually kills them but the depression from being such friendly mates with someone who they shouldn't know that well. Or maybe I'm just cynical. Well, I am cynical but I still think I'm onto something here.

Anyway, I was there to get the low down on my front tooth. The incisor if anyone remembers learning the actual name from old science lessons at school. This tooth has been a complete nuisance since the last dentist, who I won't name...because I don't know his name, screwed up the first filling. Now my friend Dr Deivis from Sweden has had to fix things. Only it hasn't gone according to plan with the next filling he put in falling out (those damned 20p sweet drumstick things), realising putting in a replacement could screw over an important nerve and so then going for a root canal instead. So far so good. What I didn't know is that even though you put in a filling as part of a root canal, the damned tooth can still die.

Which is what I learned today. Humbling news. My new best friend Deivis told me that my front right incisor is dead. The first part of me to die is my front right incisor. It never even reached 20. He told me that sometimes this can happen but the decay normally occurs over many months whereas this has been rather quick. I took that to mean that when I completely die in hopefully a lot of decades time, you'll only need to wait about six months or so before burying someone on top of me, such is my body's speed at decaying.

So now I am currently lugging around a dead piece of me forever more. Apparently it will need to be whitened from the inside and this should last 7 or so years before I need it redone. Knowing my recent dental problems I'll be going back every year. This costs £120 by the way, yet the whole mouth can be done for £500. I don't really get this as if you get the whole mouth done, that's one hell of a discount. I contemplated it for a few moments before realising I wasn't yet ready to look like Simon Cowell or Richard Hammond when his had just been done on Top Gear.

So I am now booked in to have my tooth whitened and it apparently takes two, three or four sessions. The only problem is it's a dead tooth so why even bother? Why not just yank the fucker out and give me a new one? That'd be kind of funky. A great ice breaker at parties. "I have a false tooth" sounds a lot better than "I have a dead tooth." Better still, I should probably just avoid mentioning it entirely.

Anyway this is being written in memory of my dead tooth. We had some good times; discovering it really could hurt biting into an apple, that time when I got a brain freeze after chomping into an ice cream with you at the forefront of that discovery. Ahh...you shall not be forgotten. Not least because I'll be lugging you about the whole rest of my life anyway and you'll be having more money spent on you than the rest of my mouth combined most likely. Even though you're dead. Ludicrous.

Henry Fosdike's Top Right Incisor. R.I.P 1990-2009/2010? (Can't really be too sure when it died)

Benches

Well here's a joke I've had stored a way for a while...and I was reminded of it last night. So before I forget it, I feel I should post it up.

"So...benches are interesting I think. Often in weird locations and you wonder why someone would ever want to stare at a main road. But quite often, and I'm sure you've noticed this, they have a little memorial plaque to a loved one. Something saying, 'For Edgar Westwick, who loved this spot. 1932-2004' And some people think, 'Ah well that's nice.' But not me. How dare they. HOW DARE THEY! You didn't love him at all, did you? He may have loved that spot so what have you gone and done? You've gone and put a fucking bench there and ruined it.

What a disgrace. He must be rolling around in his grave."

And there we go.

A short routine

Okay, I have never tried stand up in my life. However I often write things that I would use were I to have the nerve to try out stand up. Without further ado, this is the first and also, extremely short routine I will share. It is written exactly how I'd say it, minus pausing. I haven't edited it or anything, so this is a first draft. Excitement. I call it McVodka. You can call it something else, it's not like it'll ever be seen on a DVD.

McVodka

I was out the other day, when I walked past a McDonald's and a thought struck me. This is a restaurant. It bills as such on the outside, but wouldn't be great if it was licensed? A licensed McDonald's where you can just go to after a hard morning and ask for a slightly heavier drink to go with your Big Mac.

"Yeah, hi there Dane, i'd lik the err...Big Mac meal please."

There's always an 'err...' before you order, has anyone else noticed that? Like you are reconsidering buying this food. Like you know it will fill you up for five minutes but after that five minutes is over you will regret spending money and your stomach won't even know you have been eating. Anyway...

"Sure thing, what drink would you like with that?"

"Err..."

There it is again. "Err..." You know exactly what drink, you know exactly what food. It's like there's still time to reconsider but no, you leap right in and order the same drink as every other time you order from a fast food chain. But wait. What's this? A licensed McDonald's?

"Err...you know what today I think I'll have the err... McVodka."

And that'd be it. Maybe the McVodka with orange rather than drinking it straight. Wouldn't it be great? But the best thing here is cost.

"Sure thing sir, would you like that supersized for 30p more?"

"You know what Dane? I think I will!"