And I’m not talking about SCHENKER from the Scorpions nor NUREYEV the famous ballet dancer …
No, I’m talking about this one …
Yep, the fucking Christmas Reindeer because I’ve got a great big fucking red spot right on the end of my pissing, soddin’ nose!
I’m 37 … THIRTY SEVEN … how the hell do I still get spots for God’s sake?I guess it could be worse, it could be Christmas Eve then it would make my life even more of a misery … however I do find it amazing how one little [well, littleish] spot can turn me back into that nervous little school boy who tried to avoid Helen Whitt [and a few years later, Katrina Brindley] because he didn’t want his zit to ruin the chance of ‘getting off with them’. [Not at the same time, I was far too innocent to evn
Of course I needn’t of worried, I didn’t get off with them even when I was blemish free – but at the time I managed to convince myself it could be a major ‘deal breaker’ so I’d sneak around making sure they couldn’t/wouldn’t see me.
That doesn’t matter now of course as I’ve got the girl and she’s stuck with me whether she likes it or not – but interms of undermining my confidence, a little red spot can do far more damage than Andy with a gun could ever achieve.
Maybe I should keep this