I’m entering a competition to write a column for a magazine despite the fact that:
A) I have no idea what to write and very much doubt that words like vagina, fuck and shit would be either printworthy or acceptable.
B) The minute I’m required to do something it stops being fun (except possibly being a taste tester in a crisp factory or being paid to roll around on a carpet made of bubble wrap, naked)
I’ve started half a dozen entries but abandoned them after a paragraph. I think the problem is that I’m fundamentally really happy at the moment. I think I must need to be tortured and gloomy to write anything. Any ideas?
Please leave comments below. I’ve procrastinated over this for about a month and the closing date is this Friday. The hurly burly of my social life means that I only really have tomorrow night to knock something out so please hurry. Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi you’re my only hope.
If you’re reading this via a link on Facebook or the Twitter please leave comment HERE not THERE or I’ll never see them. If you suggest something I can use I’ll give you a free signed copy of my forthcoming book* delivered to you by Tucker dressed as a shark on the back of a Roomba, thus:
If I knew how to embed the video instead of the link I totally would but I’m typing this on my phone and am suffering from the carbs bloat, Sunday night existential angst, separation anxiety, post-natal depression (from 25 years ago) and Munchausens by proxy.
*Or I would, but I don’t have a forthcoming book.