You,me and Crocodile Dundee

This is something I wrote before Christmas for a Young Everyman Workshop, it just a short monologue I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. Feedback welcomed. 

Sam:    I’m told… I’m constantly told that I don’t remember it. Or at least I don’t remember properly…that night, they say I don’t remember that night but I do, I remember. I know Tommy was there, I know he was. That’s the one thing I’m sure off.

 The thing about Tommy is, well I guess…I guess there are some people in life that just…they just stand out you know?  Tommy was one of those guys. Tommy or as I originally knew him Thomas was I guess just larger than life, in a good way…He wasn’t a “character” which is just polite short hand for attention seeking twat. No, Tommy wasn’t like that; I guess really he was just a guy born in the wrong time, in the wrong place. He wasn’t a loner he didn’t feel like he was missing out, he just stood out slightly. He would off been better off in King Arthur’s Court. A Knight of the Round Table. Going off on quest for the Holy Grail, fighting Dragons, marrying ugly hags who turn into beautiful damsels, beheading strange Green Men, you know shit like that.

When we were younger we would turn Climbing frames into Castles, We would run into the woods looking for quests, ponds became sword distributing lakes; every old man we saw was a warlock or a druid.

We were a bit too obsessed with the whole Knight thing, once in year six he started a fight with Stephen Matthews, defending the honour of Chloe Benson and tried to have a sword fight with a 32 inch ruler. He got a detention, we didn’t know you could get a detention at primary school; thought that was something they saved for the comprehensive, but apparently challenging other students to a “duel to the death” with school equipment was a serious matter.

-The PTA did not spend the Christmas tombola money on brand new stationary so it could be used to have sword fights, is that clear?

 Anyway we got a little older, a little wiser and we dropped the Knights of the Round Table thing, found something a bit cooler…Warhammer.

Warhammer is a table top fantasy battle game, using miniatures. You get your usual fantasy characters, Humans, Elves, Dwarfs etc. I was Empire a human army, one the most powerful races, we have the might of gunpowder…Tommy collected Skaven, affectedly giant rats nothing very spectacular to be honest with you.  We would spend hours painting our figurines and then playing. I was always convinced that my army was better…I mean come on I had warrior priests, yeah imagine Rowan Williams with a sledgehammer, or the Pope with a mace. I’m bound to win what’s he got over-grown rodents? But every time he manages to beat me, every bloody time.  I mean looking back there is no real skill to Warhammer you just role some six sided dice…it’s just the luck of the role.

I lost track of Tommy when we got to the comp. I mean it was inevitable really, it just such a big place, occasionally I’d see him walking around a corner, or on the other side of the tennis court.  We spent some time apart

I got back in touch with Tommy, at the start of Sixth form…Mum had been ill and he came round to see if I was OK, it’s like we’d never been apart.

  Sixth form a place of reinvention first time you can turn up to school in your own clothes, a chance to make a statement tell the world who you are. You want to stand out, but not too much, you want to be an individual but an individual who fits in with the crowd.  That’s what I would want, not Tommy though…first day of sixth form he walks in wearing a battered leather jacket, ripped and oil splattered jeans and to top it all of a cowboy hat…He looks like Crocodile Dundee. The next two years flew past in between the parties and the work and the UCAS application, it felt at the time like so much was happening that I was making decision which would affect the rest of my life, but now I can barely remember any of it. Tommy had his usual laissez fair approach to studying. Over the years his interest in Warhammer and King Arthur had been replaced with an interest in girls and cider. One time I caught him trying to finish his art coursework on the back of the bus, art coursework which was due in a week ago. So what he’s not the first kid to try that won’t be the last…Tommy art coursework was a paper Mache sculpture…of Paul Hogan.  It’s fair to say Tommy was a big Crocodile Dundee fan.

-Crocodile Dundee is one of the greatest stories ever told, it’s up there with Off Mice and Men and Toy Story.

He would say.

I was pretty good at school work, ended up with a place at the University of Manchester, unconditional. Tommy scraped into MMU. We agree to live together, it may off not been the best thing  we should of probably of parted ways after college, but I thought if I let him go off on his own he will just get lost get side tracked I figured if I stayed with him I could help keep him on the right path… he dropped out of Uni within three weeks, but we carried on living together, he loved the lifestyle, he loved the lifestyle a bit too much, every night I’d be sat at my desk trying to finish any essay when I hear knock on the door.

-          We’re gettin’ pissed tonight!

-          I can’t gotta finish this essay! 

-          wasn’t asking I was tellin’!

Every night ring of fire, or a poker game, or going out in Fallowfield, until our student loans ran out, then we just went into the overdraft, until that ran out and then finally hungry, cold and poor I was able to finish my uni work.

He wasn’t a burden…I want to make that clear; It was great having him round the house really it was.  He was a good handy man…one time I went into the kitchen, raging hangover and he’s there tank top and board shorts fag hanging out of his mouth, with a deodorant can and a lighter, trying to defrost the freezer with a home made flame thrower. Another time I caught him trying to catch a mouse with a catapult…OK…honestly every time I went into my house I felt like burglar from the home alone movies.  But truthfully I liked that; it made life interesting.

That night was a strange one, I’d come back from uni, it was late, there was no food in the house, OK that part wasn’t unusual. I scrape together some change from the back off the sofa, and headed for Netto. Netto my God I would be dead if it wasn’t for that place, they sold everything you could ever need, and so cheap, you know Netto is Danish for value?….a tin of RugRat pasta shapes for 20p, I practically lived off the stuff…They do the nicest four cheese pizza, although if I’m honest there are not four different cheeses in it.  So I’m on my way to Netto, and this bloke walks up to me and says can he borrow a cigarette, I don’t smoke, I apologise I carry on walking, then I feel a hand grab me, and suddenly I’m being pushed against a wall, he shouting, everything is so…He’s shouting…there’s a knife against my throat.

-Give us your fucking money!

-I Haven’t got anything


-Look take my phone.

-What the fuck is that? I have an iphone mate, why wouldn’t I want that brick?

Then suddenly out of nowhere Tommy appears, in his leather jacket and hat, he pulls a knife from the top of his boot, like a big machete he walk up to the mugger,

 Like he’s Crocodile Dundee, Like a noble Knight, the attacker flees, and he casually lights a cigarette, stretches out his arm and pulls me up, we laugh all the way home…I can’t believe what he did.

Long Pause

I’m told that my version of events don’t add up… I’m told that my memory is unreliable. They show me some CCTV footage, but the CCTV doesn’t show everything it must be at a bad angle, doesn’t get the whole picture or they must of edited they must of changed in some way, using Photoshop or I dunno something like that.  Because when I watch it, there is no Tommy, he doesn’t fend them off, they don’t run away…They just kick me. They just keep kicking me.

I’ve gone from one shrink to the next all talking the same crap. Wanting to discuss trauma and stress, I’m not stressed I’m not traumatised I know what I saw. Apparently in my situation, it’s not unheard of for someone to fabricate events in order to make sense of them.   If I had made it up I would made something up more impressive wouldn’t I? If I was making up I would said I was surrounded by three Trolls, ready to eat me, then Sir Galahad comes riding over on his white mare horse, he cuts down the Trolls, with his sword, he leans down and throws me onto the horse and  we ride a way into the distance. If I’d off made it up I would made it sound like that.

I know what I remember. Tommy was there, he was always there.


Why I write

A few months back I was at a conference talk at the Liverpool Playhouse theatre, for the Everyword festival, after a discussion between several writers and the Artistic Director Gemma Bodinetz the floor was opened up for questions from the audience. The first question was

“What is the point in writing?”

The question was met with shock and laughter, but it got me thinking off something else, something which for me is far more important… what is a writer?

I kind of feel like a fraud when I tell people I’m a writer. Partly because it’s a very vague term, it’s often followed by the question “What do you write?” It’s partly because I have the constant memories of bright red pen lines underlining large chunks of my work from high school English lessons. But partly because I think my first love is theatre. Everything I have ever written is about or for performance. Writing is just the way I choose to create theatre work.  The first work I made didn’t even have a proper script, more notes like a set list. My early influences Harold Pinter, Eric Bogosian and Dario Fo were all performers before they were writers, so even as I began to write work I would often down play that part of the process.  So I would rather call myself a theatre maker, or a storyteller before calling myself a writer. Of course it’s hard to say that without sounding like a twat.

So why theatre? Well theatre is the oldest form of storytelling. Oral storytelling was the main source of sharing ideas and information it was accessible to everyone, and stories were pasted down from one generation to the next, with each new teller adding, taking away or improvising, re-drafting the stories through the centuries. Stories existed long before we could write, and continued to thrive long after, particularly among the masses that remained illiterate. Men and women have always told stories…Hang on have women always told stories, I’ll check.

Matt: Excuse me Historian, have women always told stories?

Historian:  Well this is a very interesting point. In medieval England children would be told stories and oral histories by the mothers long before school age and indeed for many…

Matt: Look a simple yes or no.

Historian: You can’t ask such a complex question and expect a one word answer; this issue is rich with contrasting ideas through the ages.

Matt: Yeah, yeah look all I wanted was just for you to clarify something so I can continue with my…

Historian: Look History is a rich an interesting subject in its own right, it’s not just an encyclopia for you to spring board your ideas off!

….So yeah Men and women have always told stories.  And  it’s the telling part that’s important the performance, so stories existed purely in monologue form until one day someone interrupted and thus the duologue was born. Over time more actors were added, eventually the play scripts were written down and thus the playwright was born, then people decided to oversee the production of the play and thus the director was born.  Then people started writing about plays and thus the academic was born, who then ruined everything for everyone. 

So why do we tell stories? Obviously there no straight forward answer to this and every writer, storyteller, theatre-maker will have their own answer, but the obvious one is because they enjoy it.  Do they all enjoy it? I mean Kafka seemed pretty fucking miserable, OK if they don’t enjoy they need to do it.  But also a story tells us something about the world, about ourselves. News gives you facts. But stories give you ideas. Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey were considered to be histories, the only documentation off the Trojan war, yet they are filled with Gods and Monsters, Homer explores pretty much every human emotion but often with Cyclops, sirens and vengeful Gods, none of which are real, at least I don’t think they are, hang on I’ll check….

Matt: Excuse me Historian; is there any historical proof that Cyclops and Sirens could be real?

Historian: Piss Off!

 Yet despite all the fantasy at its core those stories tell us everything we need to know about the tragedy of war, the corruption of politics, the relationships between Men and Women even the meaning of life. Stories should be fun, we should enjoy them, a good play should make you laugh and cry…But it should make you think. Stories should be overflowing with ideas.  

Theatre has the potential to be storytelling in its purest form, some of the best theatre I have ever seen has just been a few people dressed in black in a room above a pub, telling the most wonderful stories. Brook describes this theatre as Theatre of the Rough.  The energy in a room when theatre is great is unparalleled to anything else I’ve ever seen, sadly though too much completely misses the mark.

So I write to make theatre, and I make theatre to tell stories and good stories are somewhere between escapist fun and standing on a soap box screeching at the top of your lungs. 

Some thoughts on Batman

Dennis O’Neil the editor of the Batman comic storyline “ A death in the family” which had the character of Robin murdered by the joker, often tells a story about how he went to a New York Deli a few weeks after the controversial comic was published. When the Deli owner asked him why he was wearing a batman lapel, and O’Neil explained his job, the owner of the Deli began to shout “Hey this is the guy who killed Robin!” O’Neil says it was on that day he learnt that he was much more than a writer he was a keeper of Folklore.  I saw The Dark Knight Rises the other week and there is plenty of blogs and reviews on the internet about the film its themes, motifs, ideology and symbolism, so I won’t go into details about what I think of the film, other than to say I think it a fantastic way to end the trilogy, Nolan has made a film which is a big summer blockbuster with plenty of spectacle but also a film filled with ideas and interesting characters.

Batman holding the corpse of Robin in the comic "A Death in the Family"In In the build up to the film I’ve been thinking a lot about Batman, I’ve re-read some of my favourite comics and I’ve been trying to figure out when I became a Batman fan and why? It was probably the early 90s animated series, I remember even at that young age understanding that there was something different about this cartoon the hero, well was he even a hero? He dressed in all black, was moody and it appeared he had no friends? Also its probably the only cartoon that I’ve ever been scared of, looking back at it now I find it hard to believe that the Joker and the Penguin from that series appeared in my nightmares, but back then to the five year old me Batman was dark he was creepy, but he was also Adam West. See because I remember as a child being a fan of both of these very different interpretations of Batman and at no point did I ever question that they both weren’t Batman.

 I had toys of Batman figures and created my own adventures for the characters he was as much a figure of my imagination as he was as anyone else’s. So this brings me back to folklore. America doesn’t have myths or legends..well not like King Arthur or Robin Hood, but certainly Superhero comics a genre born out of the pulp fiction magazine of the 1920’s  fill the gap in the American psyche that needs myths. In a way Batman is the ultimate triumph of the American dream, a billionaire playboy who also fights bad guys in his spear time…Awesome…but then you dig a bit deeper and you find there is something darker…something more sinister. These ideas were best explored in comic book artist of the late 80s writers like Frank Miller and Alan Moore re-invented the character asking questions about what motivates him and how would he respond to events, Moore says of Batman “Lots of people have traumatic childhoods, they don’t all dress up as bats to fight criminals, you’ve got to admit that’s a bit messed up.” So suddenly our Hero becomes a psychopath? 

You see to me why I love Batman and I do love Batman whether its Adam West, Michael Keaton, Christian Bale or the drawing in a comic book. Each interpretation gives us something different, the Nolan films are dark and clearly for adults but this does not mean Batman is just for adults he’s a character you discover as a child and then rediscover as an adult. Batman is a superhero but a superhero filled with ideas, filled with questions. Is Batman a fascist? Perhaps, maybe, I don’t know, is that why I like him? I don’t know the answer to either of these questions but I love the fact after all this time I still have questions about character I know so well. He is both a vigilante fighting off psychopaths and a pantomime hero. So if you enjoyed TDKR don’t stop there, read the comic books re visit the Burton films (go on there still great fun) and remember you love the cartoons once too.

My personal Batman recommendation

Graphic Novels

The Long Halloween

Whatever Happened to the Cape-Crusader

The Killing Joke

The Dark Knight Strikes Again.


Batman (1966)

Batman Returns

The Dark Knight Trilogy 


Batman: The Animated Series

The Folly of painting Walls

Once Upon a time, when men were men, dogs were dogs and starbursts were opal fruits,there lived an Emperor in far off China, he wanted to keep his land safe from enemies so he asked the servants of his land, the people of China to build him a wall. A wall bigger than any wall before, so tall it would be impossible to crawl up, so long it would take weeks to walk across, a wall so spectacular it could be seen from the heavens. 

So the servants did as their mighty Emperor asked and they built a wall biggest in the land, in fact it was as big as the land, and it took years to complete and many a father and son died building it (After all this was in the days before regular health and safety checks) many a man fell from the flimsy scaffolding and was crippled (because this was before injurylawyers4U if you got injured you’d lose your source of income). In short the building of the Emperor’s Wall came at a great personal price to his servants; the people of China. But the Emperor was the Emperor and the people did as they were told, and finally one day on a crisp spring morning the wall was complete. All stood in wonder at the magnificent stone structure in front of them a wall bigger than any wall before, so tall it would be impossible to crawl up, so long it would take weeks to walk across, a wall so spectacular it could be seen from the heavens. The Chief Architect called for the Emperor, the Emperor arrived almost instantly his eyes filled with wonder, he looked out onto the horizon and all he could see was his glorious wall, a wall bigger than any wall before, so tall it would impossible to crawl up, so long it would take weeks to walk across, a wall so spectacular it could be seen from the heavens. 

The Emperor turned to the Chief Architect and said

"Paint it."

"What?!" Cried the Architect.

"I don’t like the colour paint it, grey is a very miserable colour, I prefer something with a bit more dazzle about it some bright, some that will really capture the eye." 

The Architect heart sank as he tried to calculate how many more men would suffer and die in the painting off the wall. 

But the Emperor was the Emperor and the people did as they were told. And thus preparation began for the painting of the Great wall of China. 

Meanwhile a man called Yu-Sze the Emperor’s personal Jester was walking around the palace preparing his act for the Emperor great banquet which was happening that evening. Yu-Sze had the freedom to do and say what he pleased as long as he kept the Emperor and his entourage laughing Yu-Sze was in many ways the only truly freeman of the entire Empire. Yu-Sze heard about the painting of the Great Wall and he began to ponder. 

That night at the Emperor’s feast, music was played, the lords of the land ate and drank and the Emperor roared at the top at his lungs at how magnificent his new wall how his wall was the biggest. Then it was the turn of Yu-Sze it got up and opened with a joke. 

"So the Emperor’s got the biggest wall, think he’s over compensating for something? Am I right ladies?" 

The Emperor was furious and had the Jester whipped. But that didn’t stop Yu-Sze. 

"Is that how you get your wife into bed?" 

The Emperor whipped him again. 

"You better get use to using that whip only way you’ll get that wall painted." 

The Emperor had Yu-Sze thrown out of the feast 

"You ungrateful shit!" Shouted the Emperor.

"I will have that wall painted, and I will not be mocked by the likes of you." 

Yu-Sze walked down to the wall that night, he stared at the gigantic stone structure. “So he wants that wall painted, I’ll give him a painted wall.” 

The next morning as the sun rose over the Great wall, the Emperor was mortified to find that someone has defaced his pride and joy, vandalised his Great wall. He looked out onto the Giant wall and painted on the cold grey stone was a large crudely drawn cock.  

The Emperor flew into a savage rage he ordered all of his guards all the knights of the realm to find that clown, Yu-Sze had gone from professional Buffoon to public enemy number one. But the Jester didn’t mind in fact the Jester wasn’t even hiding he stood at the gates of the castle waiting to be arrested. 

Yu-Sze was escorted to the Emperor court. 

"What have you done to my wall?"

"What have you done to my wall?” repeated Yu-Sze, in a mocking tone.   

"It’s not your wall it’s my wall!" 

"It’s not your wall it’s my wall!”

"Hang on, are you just repeating everything I’m saying?"

"Hang on, are you just repeating everything I’m saying?” 

"Stop it! This is serious!"

"Stop it! This is serious!” 

This continued for a while. Until the Emperor got the whip. He whipped the fool again and again until Yu-Sze no longer moved. The Emperor then towered over the shivering clown and sneered 

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t make you personally paint my wall?" 

To which Yu-Sze replied

"I’m colour blind" 

The Emperor continued to whip the Jester and the Jester continued to mock nothing the Emperor did could stop the jokes and days pasted and torture continued and news of Yu-Sze defiance and taunts spread through the kingdom, and Emperor began to look more and more foolish as he was unable to control his Jester, and it wasn’t long until half the kingdom were re-telling The Jesters jokes, everyone from Peasant to Priest, concubine to Knight everyone was laughing at the Emperor and his great plan to paint the great wall began to look like a stupid joke. 

Eventually the Court Jester was released and the Emperor abandoned his plans to have the Great Wall of China painted and thus saved the lives of thousands hard working men and their families.   

3 notes

My first performance

I love performing in fact I can remember the first time I performed it was in primary school in the nativity play. I was one of the three wise men, basically if you are one of the tallest kids in the class you get to be a wise man, simple. So I was really excited because I had a line. One line and I had been practising it for weeks “I bring you Frankenstein” “I bring you Frankenstein” right I know how I was rehearsing the wrong line but that not the point.

 So it’s the big day of the performance and the three wise men are sat at the back of the hall because we are going to walk through the audience up on to the stage, I know breaking the fourth wall but that how we rolled Goostrey Primary School you get me brother. So we’re sat there watching the play, I’m rehearsing my one line over and over again in my head, the other two; well they aren’t, well let’s just say they weren’t taking whole thing to seriously and it showed in their performance. 

So the play is in full swing when one of the Sheppard’s walks on stage, and you know how in navity if your a Sheppard all you wear is one of your Dad’s shirts and a tea towel, that way everyone knows your an Arab, and speaks his line “OH LOOK IT IS AN ANGLE” Alright it wasn’t exactly Shakespeare (and even if it had been he still would pronounced it wrong) I know but stick with it, he then walks to the front of the stage and sits down legs wide open, unfortunately for this performer they were going commando, now don’t laugh lots of actors do it Patrick Stewart won’t go on stage unless he’s wearing a thong, ever wondered why you can only see  Marlin Brando in the Godfather from the waste up. Now I know today a lot of people would hesitate before laughing at a child’s cock, but these were more innocent times back then seeing a child’s cock was the funniest thing you could see, I mean come on what’s funnier than a 6 year old being humiliated in front of everyone he knows. So head teacher panics to try regain control of the show they quickly rush the three of us, the three wise men onto the stage. The other two wise men are sniggering not me because I’m character I wanted to make quite a grand entrance but we end up just running onto the stage, first wise man, says his line “mumumuumgold” He mumbles it nobody can tell what he says amateur, second wise man walks up to Mary and the baby Jesus, “I BRING YOU MEREREREREREREERE!!!” Right now he got volume but that just shouting, it’s not acting, there a difference trust me I have first class honours degree in Theatre.  So I walk into centre stage I breathe in.

At this moment Joseph decides that he wants to hold the baby Jesus and tries to snatch off Mary, to which Mary turn round and punches Joseph in the face, he then stands up and the two of them start fighting over the Baby Jesus, just to point out it wasn’t the real Baby Jesus, it’s a plastic doll. So there playing tug of war with the baby Jesus like some biblical version of the Jeremy Kyle show.

Joseph suddenly pulls the head of the Jesus, to which Mary shouts “YOU’VE KILLED JESUS!!” The whole of the reception class then start crying the Sheppard then looks down and see’s his cock is on show he starts crying, the head teacher is furious because we don’t do the murder of Jesus until next term, a child then pisses their pants on stage (that not really part of the story but it always seemed to happen.) They draw the curtain, play ends.

 And I never got to say my line, still I don’t think it affected me it not like I travel around the country performing to handle of performers in a desperate attempt to be liked. 

First performance with James next Monday!

First performance with James next Monday!

2 notes

Mappa Mundi is a new performance which mixes stand up comedy, live art and audience interaction. It explores the Crusades a brutal series of wars that lasted 300 years, a mix of real and fictional stories from Knights Tales to misguided terrorists, from Richard the Lionheart to the EDL. Mappa Mundi is a funny and thought provoking piece of work about history and the effects it has on us. 
Mappa Mundi will premier at this year’s Emergency accommodation at the International Anthony Burgess Foundation on the 2nd October, and then again at Contact’s Comedy Playground on the 5th December. 

Mappa Mundi is a new performance which mixes stand up comedy, live art and audience interaction. It explores the Crusades a brutal series of wars that lasted 300 years, a mix of real and fictional stories from Knights Tales to misguided terrorists, from Richard the Lionheart to the EDL. Mappa Mundi is a funny and thought provoking piece of work about history and the effects it has on us. 

Mappa Mundi will premier at this year’s Emergency accommodation at the International Anthony Burgess Foundation on the 2nd October, and then again at Contact’s Comedy Playground on the 5th December. 

3 notes

Hello This weeks Comedy Manifesto is a video of me performing Stand up your it mainly about politics and stuff but your feedback would be greatly appreciated 

9 notes

Comedy Manifesto No. 2 - Public transport and unemployment

Public transport can’t live with it can’t live without it, this is particularly true if you live in the countryside which due to me being an unemployed graduate is where I am.  Trying to find a bus in the countryside is like trying to find a Norwegian Morrissey fan. 

Whilst I was at University I use to like travelling by Bus. Mainly because I like my journeys to be accompanied by a sound track of shitty dub step played through the tinny speakers of a Blackberry, surrounded by the smell piss and being sneered at by every other passenger like a sex offender because I’m reading the Guardian.  Also I like being fleeced off all my change. 

My relationship with public transport is like an abusive marriage, in many ways I love public transport I can read a book, listen to music, I don’t have to deal with the hassle of driving, I need not complain about the price of petrol (like a member of the Jeremy Clarkson fan club) on the other hand I have deal with other human beings, share my personal space with dick heads I’m ever 4 hours early or 10 hours late to everything and I have to complain about the price of fucking train tickets because Richard Branson has got enough of my FUCKING MONEY!!!!

I mean it’s all very well Morrissey saying “And if a double Decker bus crashes into us, to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die”  But how many commuters have had their journeys interrupted by the likes of angst ridden, spotty, vegan teenagers contemplating a romantically poetic  death.

The only thing at the moment worse than travelling by public transport is being unemployed, I’ve been unemployed for a few months now and to be honest it’s a bit depressing.  I’m desperate for a job, I was so desperate I applied for a job at McDonalds, got a letter in the post a few days ago from them, I was over qualified WTF “I’m sorry you be too good at this job” 

Come on Matt it wouldn’t be the same McDonalds experience if the staff knew what they were doing. But you know what I now have a new life ambition to work at Maccy D’s (my parents are so proud of me) yeah and I plan to work all my way to the top. And you know what I’ll do when I’m CEO of this evil, corrupt, capitalist, corporate Demon, what I’ll say at that first share holders meeting. I’ll look at each one of them individually and say “IF IT’S 3 O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING AND SOMEONE WANTS TO WALK THROUGH THE DRIVE THRU…THEY CAN!” 

Every time I go it’s 3 in the morning I’m drunk, I want a Big Mac, I have money but they turn me away. I’ve tried everything to get served at drive thru without a car, even tried going in on roller blades.  

 “Erm we haven’t been trained to serve people on foot”

It’s very simple it just like in a car, I give you money, you give me the food, I eat the food and then I cry myself to sleep…as a meerkat would say its “simples” 

1 note