I started my day this morning wondering about fish, and almost immediately, after 6 hours, I stopped. It quickly become apparent that it was intently boring. After a while, I decided to try and think of something else. This proved difficult. In the end (and due to a strain induced shit) I had to accept failure. Without warning I was struck by a sudden thought. Now, When I say struck, I mean struck in the face. literally right in the face. Well, actually it hit me in the head (from the left, and slightly to the front) which prompted me to fall off my chair (to the right, and slightly backwards). The content of the thought is not important right now, what was important was the huge hand print it had left on my face in green paint. 'green paint', I wondered to myself, and upon wondering, I was struck by a large wonder (and lo, a second hand print, this time bright grey!). this was not your common or garden variety green paint though, this was the shit that glows in the dark! I know because as is the norm in this obviously everyday scenario, the first thing I did was turn out the lights to check levels of luminosity! After having experimented with numerous different types of bulb and light sources to see if any other reaction with the paint occurred, I headed outdoors to chase this thought as it ran out of the classroom that ive failed to mention to this point, and off down the hall. initially I took chase because I would have liked to pressed charges on the little dick slice, but he was too fast for me, especially as I had become confined to a chair with wheels (not a wheelchair you understand, but one of those office chairs that you scoot around on, I had been confined to it ever since the 'cherry pit' incident of the week previous) and consequently he escaped. 8 hours passed before I realised I still had two options to catch the little fuck tard. The first involved my growing a pair of wings with the sheer power of will, but the last time I tried that I ended up with the head of a macaw and a very unimpressive wingspan of only 9 feet. My brain discarded option 1. Option 2 involved wheeling myself out into the courtyard where some of the third year students were experimenting with rocket propelled legs that could be attached to someone very quickly using only twine and a stapler, my brain (cleverly) chose this option after only an 8.6 minute "mulling" period. I aqquired the legs by besting the third years at the fair art of 'chair boxing' (I was 1874 world champion) I once again gave chase to the mad thought that had struck me earlier on in this rambling and pointless bullshit! The last that had been seen of him was darting off towards the Cotswolds to befriend Jeremy Beadle. The apparent plan was to take over Ireland and sell it to the Turks! By the time I caught up with him they had almost completed phase one, and were already well into the construction of the cardboard uniforms they would need to gain access to the Irish pub landlord convention! I, knowing of Beadle's water allergy, (he put his right hand in water in 1986, hence the hands still withered appearance) poured water onto the both of them. Beadle shrivelled up like a prune instantly, and my thought tried to leap over a nearby fence! Unfortunately for my thought the fence was there to stop people falling into the pit Beadle had dug to throw those who mocked his rotten fetid withered hand into, and my thought was subsequently mauled to death by rabid pygmies and their rabid pygmy wives! in the end an eventful day, and another case closed by Sir Jamjar Fishbone, private eye! (Me)
