Are you one of those people who compulsively sends friends and acquaintances countless astonishingly banal mobile phone texts, for no God-damned reason whatsoever? Do you believe that everyone in your phone book is entranced by your revelations of what u r watchin on tv or that u saw that bloke out of brookside, the gay 1 wiv the funny eyes?
Do you wander the Earth in an oblivious bubble, vacantly convinced that every random splatter of incontinent thought that splashes into the empty toilet bowl of your skull is of urgent, critical interest to the rest of humanity?
Are you unable to resist machine-gun bursts of updates on the minutiae of your activities - fascinating insights such as I'm on the bus - bored - thus forcing your friends to wrack their brains for any other response than I hope it crashes into a petrol station, overturns and catches fire, before they fritter away five precious minutes of their painfully finite lives grappling with predictive text, just to avoid puncturing your ever-swelling, bovine self-regard?
Well, perhaps you've never considered ending your miserable existence by repeated stabbing yourself through the eyeball with a fork, or slowly forcing your head onto a screeching circular sawblade. If not, I advise that you give it some serious consideration, and I'd like to add that if you feel that you need my permission before you terminate your frivolous life in an act of blood-curdling self-murder, then you may consider it granted.
Rest assured that not only do you have my approval, but also my blessing and enthusiastic support. I'll even offer you helpful pointers on how to do the deed.
Quickly - read the instructions below and follow them to the letter.
Step One - Slam your head in a car door.
Step Two - See Step One.
No, don't think about it! Thoughts are for losers. Just do it... do it now.
You know it makes sense.
Addendum - Are you the type of alarmingly insecure and paranoid person who constantly searches through your partner's mobile phone for evidence of flirtation, over-familiarity or outright infidelity? Are you incapable of reading phrases like I'm on the bus - bored without concluding that this is, in fact, secret code for Please come to my house and pound my orifices with your throbbing, insatiable horn?
Be warned! You are squandering valuable time that could be spent on more rewarding activities such as chilling the fuck out, getting a grip or merely acquiring a sense of proportion.
Thank you for your time.