Tired Dad: A Life
TD: TM, I'm really upset. I'm obviously VERY clever and VERY talented and VERY funny, but I'm not famous and nobody is giving me loads of money just for being me. What can I do?TM: Jesus wept! For the last time, I'm leaving you, you self-obsessed, bitter little cockpiece. I'm actually leaving the house as I speak! I'm SICK of your petulant whining! GOOD-BYE!
TD: You're right! I am astonishingly handsome and talented, and I've clearly
been overlooked because those in positions of power are too stupid to see what they're missing. What a brilliantly talented man like me should do is start a blog. THAT will get me the plaudits I deserve! Oh, what time is dinner love? Love? Oh, she must have gone to the shops....some time passes.
TD types furiously...TD: Hmm. TM still isn't back from the shops.
Wonder what's keeping her? I need her to make my dinner, what with me being the BIG WORKING MAN round here. No-one else works as hard as me. No-one. Anyway...there! I've written some things. Brilliant things, obviously, because I'm so brilliant. Now everyone will love me! I'd betters start getting some photos autographed ready for my first book deal
....some more time passes. No-one visits TD's blog...
TD: This is intolerable! No hits, and I still haven't had my dinner! I know! I'll start generally having a go at other folk to get myself noticed and get the ball rolling. Then I'll have a book deal and a tv show in no time, and make people realise how generally untalented everyone is compared to me too. Oh this will be lovely!
...some time passes. TD gets some hits!
TD: Hooray! Got some hits. Still no dinner though. Anyway, now to start writing about how fabulous my life is - like how I'm so hard, I bump into people in the street like Richard Ashcroft DELIBERATELY to start fights to prove how tough I am. Or how I'm so brilliant and well-connected, I can toss away media jobs on a whim and have another one within 20 minutes - all done from the pub! Man, how cool am I, eh?
Oh, but wait! I need to make sure I remain controversial and yet in with the "working man". I know! I'll make a sweeping, groundless generalisation about broadsheet newspaper readers being tossers, and keep on making it over and over again!
...some further time passes.Once the fuss about the random slag-offs subsides, no-one visits anymore because TD is actually making himself look like a hypocritical wanker of the first order...
TD: I don't understand! My posts are so witty and hilarious! I mean, I talked about FUNNY PEOPLE AT WORK, how CO-HABITING MEN AND WOMEN SAY FUNNY THINGS TO EACH OTHER and THINGS NOT BEING THE SAME AS THEY USED TO BE. It's all 100% original pure comedy gold! What could possibly have gone wrong? It...it must be other people. Stupid, lazy other people who are still so stupid as to think other folk might have something more interesting to say than me. I'd better do another round of my stinging, painfully witty criticisms to set everyone on the right path. Won't be long now before everyone starts recognizing me for the literary colossus I am, and thanking me for enriching their lives with my thoughts and musings. And maybe my dinner will show up soon too
......jump forward 80 years. TD is in a nursing home by the sea...
Tired Offspring: Now Jimmy, we're off to see Grandad today. You will behave won't you?
Jimmy: I'll try...But he scares me.
TO: I know son, I know. OK, Here we are...
TD: Broadsheets!?! Broadsheets make you a poofter! Coke tastes like chicken these days! I worked with someone once with a wonky eye! Yes, a fucking WONKY EYE! Can you imagine that, eh? Eh? Go on then, laugh! LAUGH, DAMN YOU!! I'm the KING of the INTERNET, do you hear? The KING! I am BEST!!! Where's my OBE, you bastards? Don't you realise I made broadcasting and satirical history
TO: *Sigh* Ok nurse, where do I sign that euthanasia order again?
TD (slowly fading away): ...t...tell that...cow...I...I...want...my dinner...now. I...I'm the big man round here...you...know...I'm...like...ffffuckin' Richard Ashcroft, me...hard...as...nailssssssssss.......
and so, Tired Dad ended his life as he had begun it. Dribbling, shitting himself and generally being an inconvenience to his close relatives. And inbetween he achieved precisely fuckall, because he was too busy trying to make out he was better than others to do anything of note.