Friday, August 31, 2007

A Face For Selling Drugs To

I have a face like a lightbulb.

I don't mean it's lightbulb-shaped, or that I'm bald - I mean I daren't leave the house with it uncovered, because I wind up surrounded by manky, scrawny, intensely annoying creatures.

I must look miserable or something - like Hicks, complete strangers walk up to me and ask, What's wrong?

As if that's not bad enough, everywhere I go, people try to sell me drugs.

Look at that guy, they must think. There's a guy who looks desperate for some grass.

It's the same today, going to get a haircut, textbook example - I walk past a guy and he says, I don't suppose you know, eh... and I stop, assuming he's after directions.

But no - he wants to sell me drugs. I've previously been stopped by a guy trying to sell me speed when I was dressed in a suit and tie, having just left a meeting with the Minister for Justice.

And it's not just drug dealers and bleeding hearts that I attract - alcoholics, deranged and amorous women who don't understand the phrase I have a girlfriend, religious cranks, recently released stab-wound victims... all of them engage me in conversation in bars, bus stops and beer gardens.

Well, if you've been born with a gift, why not use it?

So this is an offer to readers - do you love taking vast quantities of drugs, but have difficulty procuring them?

Secret hankering for an illicit affair with a crazy woman, but too shy to do the legwork?

Well, drop me an email - for fifty quid, you can hire me to stand next to you for an evening. Before you know it, you'll be beating off coke dealers and slappers left, right and centre.

Stroppy blogger, GSOH, no visible scars, uncut, seeks wealthy benefactor for evenings of flagrant exploitation.

Apply to the obvious address

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