Albert’s favourite joke is as follows. Each day he attempts some sit-ups. He can reach about twenty before he has to give up.
But if someone comes into the room during his brief exertions he always starts counting.
‘One hundred and twenty three,’ he says as he completes his fifth sit-up. ‘One hundred and….twenty….four.’
Albert loves this joke so much he can sometimes laugh about it alone.
I woke up to find myself in hospital. In my semi-conscious state I had so many powerful visions! I saw a new phone; a whiter smile; far better skin; a cleaner, faster car. I even saw lust! There was so much to be done and time was marching on. What was doing wasting my time lying around here? I clambered out of bed, disconnecting myself from all the pesky tubes and wires.
“Relax,” the nurses said. “Those aren’t visions,” they said. “Those are just adverts on tv. You should just ignore them. Everyone knows they’re not real.”
But I was having none of it. I wanted it all. And I wanted it now.
“Get out of my way,” I shouted at them. “Can’t you see you’re holding back my recovery? Can’t you see you’re holding back the recovery of the entire economy?”
I get quite a few heckles when out running of an evening. I’m not quite sure why.
Here are some of my favourites.
“Run home, running man,” which I love because it makes no sense.
And then there was the very posh lady outside the restaurant who told me off for wearing shorts in winter. When I ignored her, she shouted after me, ‘You stupid arse!’
But my absolute favourite one came from a speeding car. The aural distortion of the obscenity made me chuckle as I ran.
Feeling a tad groggy, I went to see the doctor.
‘Perhaps you should try sleeping more,’ she suggested.
‘Is that it?’ I asked. ‘Is there nothing I can take?’
‘Well,’ she replied, ‘I suppose you could try taking offence two or three times a day. That usually perks people up.’