You see right now, i’m in the middle of one of the nastiest cluster headaches that i’ve had for a long while. However … in a sick twist of introverted pyschology, i’ve decided to enjoy it and look at the positives rather than dwell on the pain. I should perhaps also point out, that i’ve had a shovel-load of painkillers about an hour ago and in the words of the song “…it’s gone right to my head”. So i’m chemically pissed you see my dears.
)Actually I just went back and added the hyphen between “shovel” and “load” so as you can see, i’m actually remarkably incoherant for someone who’s a little way out there)!
Where was i? Oh yes. My deathbed.
Picture the scene (as radion four would say “if you wiil”) me, all dressed in white, lying neatly under folded sheet, a group of close friends all standing round whispering or weeping. Well i want none of that. So i’ve decided that i want a death-bed party. I’m determined that the last thing to leave me will be my sense of humour. And I have left instructions.
I’d like someone to make areally sick banner to hang up, something along the lines of “Congratulations on your death”. Seriously, it’ll be a laugh. We’ll have party games (volunterr organisers please). No idea what, but pass the parcel with an urn in it should be a hoot! The sicker the better please. Ask Rory to help, he’s a sick f*cker with a wicked imagination.
I’m hoping Ingrid will organise most of this (it’ll keep her mind off any morbid aspects you see). I’d love it if Beautiful Baby Jo cold be there (she’ll need a cheeky rosé or three though) and her Pete too. If you need me to move to one side whilst you spit-roast the girl then go for it with my blessing.
And Beautiful Baby Jules too, she’ll love the chance of some medical play! I’d be so happy if my beatiful little Emily (RiC) was there too, one of the best huggist around and with a filthy glint in her vey beatiful eyes. Speaking of beautiful eyes, if the one i call my beautiful little Ruthe could be there, i’d love that too. (God this is so selfish. These people might not want to be there). And if someone could invite my very pretty friend Zoe too plaese. She’s secretly a really filthy bitch who’s quickly becoming less secret about her inner filth. Take her to your hearts (and to your parties) she’s a wonderful person. And no partyt would be complete without Ben and Lilly. Ang and Kieron have often featured in my little sordid fantasies, but we’ve never the chance to act them out, so if they fancied coming alongand teasing me with what might have beem, it’d be lovely to see them. So now we have the makings of a dirty little get-together.
I have to paws here because i’ve got the sensation of rats inside my forehead trying to get outand i’ve a mind to let them.
So as well as alcohol, do bring nibbles, party food, but not those ‘orrible little sausages. No-one actally likes them.
Oh i’ve just had a little Pecan Pie that Ingrid brought back from Atlanta. Very very morish, but i’m watching my weight. Imagine the shame of hearing the coffin carriers groan and call for backup!!
Obviously at some point during the afirementioned (oh check me out using big wordsd whilst chemilly pissed)!! What? Oh yes, at some point, i’ll probaboy die. No need to go, in fact, rather like a bride and groom leaving for the two-week shag-fest, that’s usually when the party really gets going. Feel free to stick silly things in my mouth and take a picrure, i won’t mind in the slightest. I don’t want any of this “paying your last respects” rubbish.
Have a laugh. Take the piss. Get drunk. Have lots of very filthy sex. And drink to my … well anything but health!!