10/01/07
A depressed man is better at shit-stirring -
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Soooo fucked off.
What me? Surely not.
In 2005, just before the fringe run of my show Ray Peacock & Son, somebody reversed into me in a multi-storey car park and fucked up the side of my car. At the time it really upset me, not least because there then ensued an argument via insurance people about who was to blame. Given that it was a massive dent in the side of my car I couldn't quite work out why there was an argument - I'm a brilliant driver (as I am brilliant at everything) but even I couldn't have driven my car in such a way as to cause that dent...not without the help of some woman reversing from a space without fucking looking at any rate.
The most hurtful part of the arguing was the fact that the woman claimed to the insurance people that I had admitted responsibility at the scene. Now, if there was one thing that was drilled into me as I was learning to drive, it was that you never admit responsibility at the scene. Even if it was actually your fault. Which it wasn't. I simply would not do it, and I was up front with the insurance company about that. So this lady, who I had actually felt sorry for, calmed down and looked after at the time of the incident given how shook up she was, went away and had a think and then lied to try and get me to have to pay for the damage. Long and the short of it is, I won.
I've got off point as usual...(I'll be honest with you at this stage, I am using you. I have nothing of interest to say in this entry but I am in a really bad state of seething depression and want to vent it out somewhere - what better place than here in public? Where everyone can read it and take secret pleasure in my continuing misfortune...).
The thing was, overall I was the most upset about seeing my car with a dent in it. Out of everything I mean. And it isn't a flash car like what Stephen Grant has got - my car's value wouldn't pay for one of his tyres - it's just a very humble, hard done to on mileage, little thing. Couldn't care less about having a flash car, nothing against people that like them, when I drove around Brighton with Stephen Grant doing a million miles an hour in his pussymobile I could see the attraction. But I tend to look at them, find out how much they are worth, and just think "fuck that's a lot of dvd's and Star Wars stuff I could buy". However, I do get very attatched to my cars. And seeing them with horrible dents in them upsets me as I would get upset seeing my friends with horrible dents in them. It's not that I care about the cosmetic appearance - it's that I sort of see it as an injury. It looked...hurt.
The only smile I was able to rise after coming back from Scotland despondent (as usual) in September 2005 was the fact that I was reunited with my car and it had been made better.
So my mood today, which wasn't that great anyway, plummetted further when I went down to my car to find exactly the same fucking dent back on it, in exactly the same fucking place, for no apparent reason.
Don't know what's happened. If it's vandalism it's very random and carefully done, if it's something that's blown into it then that something has since been moved, and if it was another car then they haven't left any details for me. It's genuinely upset me, and we know how shaky my emotions are at the best of times. I don't even know what I am meant to do to make it better. I don't know who to call. It is a stealth dent, it came in the night and left no evidence as to it's origin. I could genuinely cry. Well...I could stop crying and then start again but about the dent this time.
Looks like 2007 has stated it's case early for me.
I also got a lovely email this morning from somebody that, in reference to my last entry here, wished to tell me that stepping on a dog was "not funny". I shan't repost the email (it would take me ages to correct all the spelling and I can't be arsed with that), but I shall say for the record that it was not deliberate on my part to step on the dog. It happened very quickly, and I only laughed out of nervousness.
Actually, that's not true, I was laughing because I realised which dog it was, I can't lie to you.
Surely something is still funny even if just one person laughs?
I love dogs to be honest, but I've always had a problem with celebrities carrying fucking dogs around. I think starting with Geri Halliwell and her little shit (the only dog in the history of Battersea Dog's Home that wished it hadn't been picked up). I despise it, I genuinely do. Fucking Sharon Osborne and Paris Hilton and all them, treating their little rats better than they would a human being with their hand out. Paul O'Grady plonking his dog on the desk in his programme on the off chance that it does a shit live on telly one day, so that they can all smirk and snort at how naughty and rude they are being, whilst the fucking idiots in the audience sit there and say "ahhhhh" for an hour or however long his 'show' is.
They are using animals as fucking props, and quite how the RSPCA has never been involved is beyond me. They are hot places TV studios, very bright lights, lots of noise. To a small, lovely little cute defenceless dog it would be a bit like being locked in a car on a summer day whilst people let off fireworks next to it I should imagine.
I agree in principle with the person that emailed me - animal cruelty is bad - and I understand why my flippant jokey comments would have upset you, so I am now campaigning for the rights of the gorgeous, cuddly, little, adorable things.
And I shall start by saying that I think these dogs should be taken off these celebrities to stop the rot.
As a society we have for too long turned a blind eye to the bad behaviour of our showbiz folk, we should look out for the best interests of the dogs in question.
And unfotunately, because they are now spoilt little shits and it is practically impossible to undo that in animals, they will sadly have to be put down for their own good.
And to bring publicity to our cause it should be live on telly.
I never heard back from my Casualty casting so I should be free to host it...
What?
Don't blame me, I didn't fucking spoil them.
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