A busy few days for Action Squid. Almost fell through the front door last night to find Honksy and Fobbs in the midst of a monstrous hair-dyeing frenzy, a strange assortment of female apparatus (cling film, towels, various bottles with demonstrative chemical warnings, cereal, wine) littered across the coffee table and surrounding floor. Frankly I was aghast. It was only when the two girls scampered upstairs and the house was filled with, 'it's fucking GINGER.....oh shitting fuck it's gone fucking ginger Honksy...' that I noticed Pongo sitting alone in the corner of the living room, heartlessly emasculated, in a blank-eyed, distant reverie that I've only previously witnessed in war films, when the scarred veteran who endured some seriously heavy shit has to return to normal society. 'Hours,' he muttered mysteriously. 'Hours and hours.'
It is also incumbent on me to wish the eldest Squid brother a very happy birthday; twenty-eight years old today. I'm told that the celebrations are taking the form of a table tennis tournament in which Party Squid is partnering with the auspicious and much-vaunted Stuart 'The Captain' Winks, so I'm sure they will at least provide a strong account of themselves, if not emerge victorious. It has emerged this week though that one of their hallowed circle is a former Devonshire under-14 player (and any follower of contemporary sport will know that the Devon under-9 to under-18 leagues are a hotbed of exceptional quality), so realistically their chances are slimmer than a bulimic heroin addict born without a full digestive tract. That being said, Party Squid has used the internet to buy a bat, 'hand built by Shaolin monks,' so hopefully he can show off the latent design quality of said exotic acoutrement to offset the shame of defeat. Let's just hope that he doesn't follow the way of the samurai so seriously that he uses the bat to commit suicide after having lost.
I had a phone call this morning from the Toad, where he casually mentioned that he and the Bear were just arriving at 'The Boat Show,' for which they had both gone to the trouble of buying new blazers. I asked why, and he simply replied that the two of them go to it together every year, and every year they buy new blazers, just for the occasion. To the untrained mind this might seem like only a minor infraction on the long road of criminality, but the Toad, the Bear, the Mountain Goat and the Squid have been the very closest and best of friends for many a tough year....so to not be invited to this event which has been going on - and I quote, 'forever' - made me feel hugely ostracised. The conversation concluded thus:
Squid: Well I just can't believe this. I.....just...can't believe it. This is totally unacceptable.
Toad: But you don't even like boats.
Squid: I could learn to like boats.
Toad: You've actually told me before that you hate them. I specifically remember you saying they feel like poorly designed spacecraft.
Squid: If I said that then it was only in passing.
Toad: Maybe Hitler only hated Jews in passing.
Squid: Is that why I'm not invited to your boat show? Because you're comparing me to Adolf fucking Hitler?
Toad: And you don't like wearing blazers.
Squid: You know damn well that I love my corduroy jacket...
Toad: ....well that's not a blazer, so....
Squid: ...well I think you're kind of splitting hairs, so...
Toad: Look, I've got to go, we've just lied our way onto a Sunseeker. The Bear is pretending he's Jude Law's agent.
Squid: Tell him to get some new fucking material. I was using that in 2005.
Toad: No, you were saying you were Shaun Goater's publicist in 2005.
Squid: I love the fact that you can't even remember what month my birthday is in, yet you can remember that. Seriously.
Toad: Seriously, I have to go.
Squid: You are a deeply callous man, you know that? Tell the Bear I expected this from you, but not from him. The Goat is going to be mortified...
Toad: [to someone else] ....errrr....I'll have the Sauvignon please....
Squid: You are so not getting your copy of Waterworld back
Needless to say, I'm hurt.
I had a dream last night where the drawer in my bedside table was filled with severed hands. Strangely I was more concerned about what to do with them than how they got there. I think I settled on anything-other-than-giving-them-away-as-birthday-presents. Explain that one Freud.
Anyway, I hope you are well.
Your loving friend,
Action Squid
i can safely say i have never been in a shop like this....where were you?
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