Friday 11th April 2003: Sweet Death
Well, this last week, my state of mind's been rather odd. My constant ravings about ‘wanting to die' have convinced many of my more extremist friends that I'm ‘suicidal,' or some such hippie nonsense. Needless to say, I don't believe them, but the fact remains that entertaining thoughts of spectacular ways to go out with a bang has been a favoured pastime of mine of late.
Now, this isn't much of a problem for me. After a few years in secondary school, I've managed to desensitise myself to the idea, such that it's now quite an enjoyable pastime, on a similar fun-level to watching old repeats on UK Gold, or re-painting historical shipping equipment to look like vehicles out of Dick Dastardly's Wacky Races.
Still, there's clearly a serious problem arising from the above: that I've never been able to write about things that don't immediately interest me. For me, trying to write about an arbitrary topic like, say, the life and works of A1, or the array of interesting conversation topics possessed by my hairdresser, is like asking Donald Rumsfeld to consider the joining of arms and the singing of Roll Out the Barrel as an alternative to a good ol' fashioned war. It just won't happen.
Well, it might, but you'd probably have to give ol' Don some special cake first, and I think as far as international relations go, that's considered cheating.
Therefore, take your seats ladies and gentlemen, and feast your eyes upon no less than two ways to die whilst making the 'Funny old world' section of your local paper.
1. The Dreaded Rear Admiral – simply steal a coat hook, attach to your wall, or other convenient fixture, and launch yourself at it from as high a height as possible, so as to catch yourself in a sort of Über-wedgie. Since death may take some time to arrive, try keeping some playing cards in your jacket pocket before you begin!
Pros:
- No expense incurred! Now your will pledging your life savings to some god-forsaken island in the South Pacific can anger your nearest and dearest more than ever before!
- Time for last requests - and, failing that, a good few games of FreeCell. Make sure that one or other is available to you, or an embarrassing climbdown followed by weeks of delicate surgery to retrieve your underwear may be the only resort. This, I am reliably informed, can be mighty inconvenient.
Cons:
- Chance of a last-minute reprieve - beware, ye who would buy supermarket-brand underpants! Our tests have shown that certain pants from the Big Four can lead to Catastrophic Seat Failure after around 90 minutes of hanging. Not only can the above-described underwear-retrieval operation become necessary, but in the worst cases the subject's trousers have been shown to follow suit, leading to some interesting situations when paramedics show up. The excuse 'the microclimate under my desk spawned a typhoon that stripped me of my belt' had never yet been shown to wash with real professionals.
- Chance of friends breaking into uncontrollable laughter when relating news of your death - I mean, think about it. What if, every time you thought of the recently departed, a monster wedgie was all that came to mind?
2. Dancing the Charleston - this one's a little trickier. You will need: 1 Disputed Territory, 4 national flags. Now, simply make your way to the disputed zone's border, and staple the four flags about your person somewhere. Preferably, you should use nice large copies of the flags of the two countries in dispute, plus ours and the Americans'. Statistically, there's not a right-thinking person on the planet who wouldn't gladly draw arms against one of these. Now, all that remains is to draw attention to yourself. Simply orient yourself so that you're looking along the border, and begin your Charleston, making sure to dance back and forth between the two nations. Remember: if there's a sensible course of action, neglect it!
Pros:
- Go out with a bang - you might even make the local news, with a story like "Suicidal Prick Dances Charleston in Uzbekistan." Of course, you could also make the local news by getting your bike pinched, or growing a beard, but that's no fun, is it now? Besides, who ever got themselves killed growing facial hair? Or being brutally beaten for their bike?
- Go out with a real nice bang - there's a chance your Charlestonning may be brought to an abrupt halt by a TANK! Tanks are cool.
Cons:
- Serious crimes - pick the wrong disputed zone, and there's a chance you'll just get hauled off to whatever godforsaken hole they use to detain the psychotic, mentally inferior, and terminally camp of the nation in question. Here, you will be subjected to ritual arse-rapings for a few years, then eventually freed. Not only will you have more orifices than when you started, but you'll be free and very much alive.
- Talent scouts - they crop up in the weirdest places! A friend of mine went off for her ‘final Charleston' once, and then I saw her again five years later, she was performing with the English National Ballet. Life, eh?
More amusing suicides, next week!
[The previous paragraph turned out to be false, but then, so did the Dead Sea Scrolls, so who am I to preach]