Saturday 8th February 2003: I Think Therefore I Am (A Weekend Updater)
[Weekend updater. Twas my official title under which I wrote these.... writings. Now read on!]
Alas, it has happened. Though undeniably great my writing was for all of three essays, I have finally run out of ideas and, like so many other things in my life, including but not limited to my social life, turned on myself. Whilst the world around me may appear dull and depressing, at least my trusty right hand will never fail me.
For those who were wondering, yes, that's the hand I write with.
Now, it'll be about now that all three of you who're still reading are wondering what exactly I'm alluding to, unless you are in fact my mother, in which case, please leave. You are not the intended audience.
Well, I'll tell you. By weeks of careful analysis of Spacemonkey, and the use of my pocket CAT Scanner, I have succeeded in mapping out what makes both he and I special; [Trivial trivia: Spacemonkey was fired a mere month later! O poetic justice!] what it is about our minds that makes us Weekend Updaters as surely as Matthew Kelly is spending the evening at the pleasure of "Slugger 'Nancy' McPie". So, with no further ado, and the mental scarring of the Kelly reference still fresh, I will begin.
1. The Depression Centre - this centre takes a key role in the brain of the Weekend Updater, to the point that the Penis Control Centre is crushed up against the skull, or, in some cases, actually hanging out of the unfortunate sufferer's ear. Note the links to all areas of the brain, and its stranglehold on the Perceptional Lobe.
2. Penis Control Centre - usually, the words 'penis' and 'control' are actually illegal when used in the same sentence, but in this case, 'control' is used in the loosest sense. Note the complete lack of connection to the Higher Thought Mass, and its disturbing habit of merging with the Appetite Reticulator, which is frequently blamed for the Black Incident of 1987. Also, note that Updaters suffering from the condition described above may behave erratically if the PCC is abused by the forces of evil. Responses to a gentle poke can vary from the spontaneous dancing of the Charleston (described by many as 'God's Cheat Code') to the immediate desire to mate with the nearest solid object. In 1976, psychologists attempted to investigate this phenomenon, and took three Weekend Updaters to a secluded location for testing. Unfortunately, the experiment was presumed a failure after the psychologists were found, hanging by their gonads, with only a note that read "you brought this on yourself."
3. Appetite Reticulator - as described above, this has almost entirely merged with the PCC. This, coupled with the ludicrously small size of the average Weekend Updater's equipment, may be responsible for the spawning of the Depression Centre, and, consequently, the merciless quest for chocolate that typifies the Weekend Updater, as well as the sadly typical, not to mention mysterious, fruitless search for courgettes.
4. Bobby Davro Impersonation Region - does exactly what it says on the tin.
5. Speech Centre - the Centre itself is much like the average human brain; the key to the Weekend Updater's inability to communcate effectively is caused by the twinned links with the Penis Control Centre and the Bobby Davro Impersonation Region. Whilst studies of brain-damaged Weekend Updaters have shown that Updaters who lose one of these links become either ludicrously amusing or incisively seductive, whilst the forces of sex-drive and its antithesis do battle, it is unlikely that the Updater will speak a comprehensible word, as long as he lives.
6. Perceptional Lobe - here we see the root cause of Weekend Updating. Note that the Depression Centre almost totally envelops this; the obvious upshot is that the Cheeky Girls sound like a war requiem, Slipknot sounds like a group of disillusioned youths fantasising about suicide, and "come, make love to me, you sexy beast!" comes across as a slap in the eye with a wet lettuce, immediately followed up with a stab in the eye with a blunt stick. Oh, and she wasn't very attractive to begin with.
7. Confidence Generator - like the PCC, this has been suppressed and, in some cases totally ejected by the Depression Centre. In the most extreme cases of Weekend Updating, the PCC and Confidence Generator hang a full three feet out of the right and left ears, respectively. The tragically obvious upshot is that the when the updater walks, the two alternately smack into passers-by. Among fortunate sufferers , this simply results in an occasional Charleston, followed by the unquestionable confidence that not only will it not happen again, but actually, that was pretty snazzy, and they're laughing with me. Him. The few unfortunates with the inverse response to prodding of the PCC (see above) were years ago exiled to Darkest Wales to restore social order; it is feared that some, however, have successfully bypassed the Cleansing. Keep your doors locked tonight, kids.
[That was almost a neat conclusion! Who the fuck wrote this? And what have you done with Chris?]