New week and Beard Face was on form recovering from the birthday celebrations. A combination of too much alcohol and one too many cakes left him paying a very heavy price. The unsurprising visits to the toilet came first but in the afternoon he seemed to be high. He kept mistaking a lamp for a glass of wine while the washing machine was confused for a giant robot exclaiming, “Exterminate!” in a very loud voice. Add to this Beard Face’s insistence that Frizzy Hair was a a posh English gent named Rupert and you can see just how bizarre this Monday has been.
It’s hard to believe that Steven Spielberg’s Jaws is 40 years old this year. Incredible. The classic film about a rogue great white shark terrified audiences back then and still makes waves today (see what I did there!) I’ve often found myself wishing that a great white could come to the UK, swim inland a bit and wait at an appropriate spot such as a canal or lake in Yorkshire. I’d do the rest by escorting Beard Face to the designated body of water and given him a very subtle push in the back. I’d have to lie to the great white of course in promising a delicious meal but once my new friend had committed himself to the meal there’d be no going back. It’s nice to dream, isn’t it?
Beard Face has decided on yet another career change. After just a week of being part of a wheelbarrow juggling act, he’s decided to turn his attention to the world of oil. The people involved in oil are very wealthy, the beard told me, and the benefit of this new venture is that he could do it from home. Apparently oil flows naturally from our back garden. I went for a look myself and found that what the beard had believed to be a natural source of oil was a bottle of Dr Pepper that someone had managed to spill.
Beard Face received the last of his birthday gifts from friends and family today. It was mostly alcohol which I hope he consumes in one evening and feels dreadful for it. The old boy was disappointed that no one had bought him the Batman costume that he wanted as well as a boomerang that is fuelled by tomato juice. Try finding one of those on ebay.
Very hot today so the garden wasn’t the most comfortable of places. Buggles informed me that he had seen warnings of impending thunderstorms in a dream. A man was admonishing people to be careful while a map of the UK was behind him with symbols of clouds emitting lots of rain. As you guessed, it turned out Buggles was mistaking his dreams with a weather forecast he saw earlier today on the BBC. What a pathetic thing he is.
The rain duly arrived during the night. I was so annoyed that I woke Beard Face at 4.00 a.m. to demand some food. He was none too happy having stayed up late to watch Arnold Schwarzenegger having a glowing bogie pulled out of his nose. It was all very weird. The forecast for the weekend isn’t looking so clever either so I might be forced to remain indoors with the beard for two full days which, when you think about it, is more horrifying than walking on hot coals.
Finally got outside today but the weather wasn’t great. What the hell is going on? It’s supposed to be June. It’s supposed to be summer in the UK. What crazy times we leave in. Beard Face has been embracing the moment by doing the gardening in the middle of thunderstorms and and shouting such bizarre things as, “Moby, Lord of the Whales Dick, is crying over the state of this garden and I must appease him and dry his eyes.” If there was ever the need for a new definition of madness then surely this scene should be it.”