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And then he sat down to write his life story. It's a stupid concept, really - diluteing and editing and condenseing his everything into a beginning, middle, and end structure. There's no way he could ever have a complete life story, because you can never write things as real as they actually are. You could never even with a million words begin to describe the way it feels to, say, feel lonely.
The begining of the story is easy to place. He was born at 11.50 on 12 / 2 / 87 - a thursday. That means he missed Friday 13th by ten minutes. Not that it's made much of a difference, but it's a nice thing to ponder.
He has an older sister, aged four. Of course, he can't remember anything that far back. A baby seems to be too busy learning, taking it all in, to be concerned with recording and collateing and organising all that it sees.
For this part of the story, he has to make do with what other people remember of him. He learnt to crawl backwards before he learnt to crawl forwards. He had a speech impediment that meant he had to pause for a few seconds before speaking, so that the words didn't all come out too fast and all in a jumble. His mum was worried about this, so she considered a private school. It never happened.
Later on, they spend five years trying to teach him French.
Whoa. Jump back a bit. His mum was a childminder, and had four kids of her own. Needless to say, although she undoubtedly tried her best, attention was probably scarce. She was a really good childminder, and so she ended up with the nastiest, most difficult kids. Our star, the one telling his story right now, he remembers one story that his mum told him about a month ago.
If this sounds pretentious, I apologise. Im not trying to be more than I am, not today. I'm just not too good at telling storys.
Anyway. This kid called Thomas Bonner, who was a few years older than our star. Naturally, as all kids do, our hero looks up to Thomas, wants to be like him. That's what learning is - imitating those older than you. Our hero, our star, our storyteller, he does this way too much - he always wants to be like the older kids.
This runs throughout his life.
Thomas Bonner used to call our hero, as though he was going to let him play with the big boys. Then, as our kid, smiling that goofy little kid smile, runs clumsily toward the door, Bonner slams the door in his face and laughs at the disappointment.
I'm sure this happened more than once. I'm sure that this is the root of the paranoia that is part of our heros psyche - the paranoia that everyone is against him. That everything he knows and loves are all laughing at him behind his back. That one day they're all going to slam the door in his face and he's going to be left with nothing.
Sorry, sidetracked. I havn't done this sort of thing before.
So this kid goes to playgroup, goes to nursery school. He's shy. Very shy. Finds it hard to make friends. He has a little sister and brother, the former of which adores him, and he looks up to his big sister as the coolest thing in the word. Because thats what kids do. His best freind is a kid called Joe Cranny, a year older than him. They used to play Care-Bears, standing in the middle of the park and shoving thier tummies out, shouting 'Care Bear Stare!'.
Joe went to school a year before he did, and leaves him behind in the process.
Jump a bit. He goes to school, and loves it. For some people, learning is such a rush. Especially this kid - he's so funning sharp, so nimble of mind. He takes to maths like a fish to water, falling into the numbers, loving that he is better than everyone else. He can't do art to save his life, or anything else practical for that matter, but the mental things? He's sorted. He's a genius.
Friends? Kids from the neighborhood, the ones he's randomly met and played with. Nick Bright. His next door neighbour, Luke, again a year older. Best friend is a kid called Joe Nathanielz, who he to this day remembers speaking to for the first time at an induction evening for the primary school. Our Heros greeting to this boy was 'why do you have brown skin?'. The reply was 'I don't know'.
You see, that isn' racism. But if our kid said that nowadays...he'd be killed. Our hero is a racist, though, if you mean it stictly. That's the fault of Enid Blyton books and TV. It goes against all his liberalist ethics, it goes against every moralistic bone in his body, every notion of equal rights he holds in his funned up head, but when he saw a black kid in the library last week?
He wondered what he'd stolen.
He decided that the kid would only be here so he could rent out some ganagster video.
He instantly thought the kid was illiterate.
That's the fault of rap music. That's the fault of movies that show black ghettos. That's the fault of Enid Blyton for casting 'Gollywoggles', black people, as the baddies in Noddy.
That's the fault of not meeting a black person until he was going to primary school.
But anyway, Joe becomes a good friend. Thing is, black kids mature faster than white kids. Joe acted older. Always the older kids.
---
Jump to some time halfway through Year Two. A girl he fancies (Kayleigh Windybank), and will fancy for the entire time he spends at Cholsey school, writes six sides of A4 for something. Our hero, this stupid racist bigoted little funner, he engages in a little primitive flirting. He does eight pages.
He was completely overwhelmed with the praise he got for it. It was about a trip to a museum. He had the admiration of the class. Eight pages of drivel, yes, but eight pages.
At what point do kids decide that doing well at school is not something to be admired? Is it when they see adverts saying 'Finally! A way to make homework fun!'?
This is when he starts loving to write. He loves writing to this day. This long piece of crap is proof that our hero loves to write. It's recording. It's creating. It's affecting other people.
When you can make other people feel, when you can use words alone to make them cry?
That is power.
That is achievement.
That is proving that you are better than they are.
But I've gone off track. But you've stopped reading. Whoever this ends up going to, you're not reading anymore. Which is fine, because this is not interesting. The thing is, other peoples problems are just not interesting. People don't care about other people. That's not a critisism, thats just the way things are.
I advise you, if you are still reading, to take a break, and come back to this. It is far from over.
So anyway. Our hero, this arrogent little ship thats been told how great he is by his teacher for the last two years, by everyone, he still yearns attention. It's a deep insecurity. It haunts him to this day. He sees this kid in his class called Adam White make a joke. Everyone laughs, and for that moment he's amazing, he's fantastic, he's the centre of attention.
Our hero, this funning moron, he fancies a bit of that. So to this day, he funs about in class, plays the clown, argues with the teacher. You have no idea how much this has stunted his education.
It's great though, because he's a sharp little funner, and he's funny. Very funny. Teacher laughing when they shouldn't be funny. He's now friend with a kid called Alex Readings who moved to the school in year three. His mum met our heros mum, and they decided that I should make friends with him. We hit it off instantly. He's smart, he's funny. He's my best friend for two years.
Through year five, through year six. By now, the combination of clowning and arrogence make him the funner we all know today. But he's not as good at hiding his insecuritys, and he's still a kid anyway, so he's like a spoilt brat. He crys a lot, usually when he loses at football. He's very good at football.
People like him though, and he goes out with a girl called Rachel Wheeler. He likes her because she also acts older than she is.
OK, that last paragraph was a lie. People don't like him. Not really. This can be proved by the fact that he is no longer friends with most of the Cholsey people. The Primary school friends.
Whatever, he gets 555 sats, and goes to Secondery school. Once there, he's still very good friends with Alex, but he hangs around with 'the gang'. 'The gang' are the cool people from Cholsey school. This group are the ones who do dens, the ones who find scraps of porn lying around, the ones who are good at football.
Through Year seven, through year eight. He's an attention seeking funner, and he reads Smash Hits and listens to All Saints. This is probably because they did that RHCP cover. That's one thing I like about this kid - he has a decent taste in music.
Yeah, that's probably the only thing I like about this kid. He's pretentious, he's fake, he's insecure, he wants to be better than everyone else. He's uptight to the point, even now, at thirteen, that even if something happens and he is no longer uptight? That the ball of deep rooted psychological funnedness was to be untwisted?
There'd still be crease marks.
He's funned, even now, at thirteen.
---
To be concluded.
The begining of the story is easy to place. He was born at 11.50 on 12 / 2 / 87 - a thursday. That means he missed Friday 13th by ten minutes. Not that it's made much of a difference, but it's a nice thing to ponder.
He has an older sister, aged four. Of course, he can't remember anything that far back. A baby seems to be too busy learning, taking it all in, to be concerned with recording and collateing and organising all that it sees.
For this part of the story, he has to make do with what other people remember of him. He learnt to crawl backwards before he learnt to crawl forwards. He had a speech impediment that meant he had to pause for a few seconds before speaking, so that the words didn't all come out too fast and all in a jumble. His mum was worried about this, so she considered a private school. It never happened.
Later on, they spend five years trying to teach him French.
Whoa. Jump back a bit. His mum was a childminder, and had four kids of her own. Needless to say, although she undoubtedly tried her best, attention was probably scarce. She was a really good childminder, and so she ended up with the nastiest, most difficult kids. Our star, the one telling his story right now, he remembers one story that his mum told him about a month ago.
If this sounds pretentious, I apologise. Im not trying to be more than I am, not today. I'm just not too good at telling storys.
Anyway. This kid called Thomas Bonner, who was a few years older than our star. Naturally, as all kids do, our hero looks up to Thomas, wants to be like him. That's what learning is - imitating those older than you. Our hero, our star, our storyteller, he does this way too much - he always wants to be like the older kids.
This runs throughout his life.
Thomas Bonner used to call our hero, as though he was going to let him play with the big boys. Then, as our kid, smiling that goofy little kid smile, runs clumsily toward the door, Bonner slams the door in his face and laughs at the disappointment.
I'm sure this happened more than once. I'm sure that this is the root of the paranoia that is part of our heros psyche - the paranoia that everyone is against him. That everything he knows and loves are all laughing at him behind his back. That one day they're all going to slam the door in his face and he's going to be left with nothing.
Sorry, sidetracked. I havn't done this sort of thing before.
So this kid goes to playgroup, goes to nursery school. He's shy. Very shy. Finds it hard to make friends. He has a little sister and brother, the former of which adores him, and he looks up to his big sister as the coolest thing in the word. Because thats what kids do. His best freind is a kid called Joe Cranny, a year older than him. They used to play Care-Bears, standing in the middle of the park and shoving thier tummies out, shouting 'Care Bear Stare!'.
Joe went to school a year before he did, and leaves him behind in the process.
Jump a bit. He goes to school, and loves it. For some people, learning is such a rush. Especially this kid - he's so funning sharp, so nimble of mind. He takes to maths like a fish to water, falling into the numbers, loving that he is better than everyone else. He can't do art to save his life, or anything else practical for that matter, but the mental things? He's sorted. He's a genius.
Friends? Kids from the neighborhood, the ones he's randomly met and played with. Nick Bright. His next door neighbour, Luke, again a year older. Best friend is a kid called Joe Nathanielz, who he to this day remembers speaking to for the first time at an induction evening for the primary school. Our Heros greeting to this boy was 'why do you have brown skin?'. The reply was 'I don't know'.
You see, that isn' racism. But if our kid said that nowadays...he'd be killed. Our hero is a racist, though, if you mean it stictly. That's the fault of Enid Blyton books and TV. It goes against all his liberalist ethics, it goes against every moralistic bone in his body, every notion of equal rights he holds in his funned up head, but when he saw a black kid in the library last week?
He wondered what he'd stolen.
He decided that the kid would only be here so he could rent out some ganagster video.
He instantly thought the kid was illiterate.
That's the fault of rap music. That's the fault of movies that show black ghettos. That's the fault of Enid Blyton for casting 'Gollywoggles', black people, as the baddies in Noddy.
That's the fault of not meeting a black person until he was going to primary school.
But anyway, Joe becomes a good friend. Thing is, black kids mature faster than white kids. Joe acted older. Always the older kids.
---
Jump to some time halfway through Year Two. A girl he fancies (Kayleigh Windybank), and will fancy for the entire time he spends at Cholsey school, writes six sides of A4 for something. Our hero, this stupid racist bigoted little funner, he engages in a little primitive flirting. He does eight pages.
He was completely overwhelmed with the praise he got for it. It was about a trip to a museum. He had the admiration of the class. Eight pages of drivel, yes, but eight pages.
At what point do kids decide that doing well at school is not something to be admired? Is it when they see adverts saying 'Finally! A way to make homework fun!'?
This is when he starts loving to write. He loves writing to this day. This long piece of crap is proof that our hero loves to write. It's recording. It's creating. It's affecting other people.
When you can make other people feel, when you can use words alone to make them cry?
That is power.
That is achievement.
That is proving that you are better than they are.
But I've gone off track. But you've stopped reading. Whoever this ends up going to, you're not reading anymore. Which is fine, because this is not interesting. The thing is, other peoples problems are just not interesting. People don't care about other people. That's not a critisism, thats just the way things are.
I advise you, if you are still reading, to take a break, and come back to this. It is far from over.
So anyway. Our hero, this arrogent little ship thats been told how great he is by his teacher for the last two years, by everyone, he still yearns attention. It's a deep insecurity. It haunts him to this day. He sees this kid in his class called Adam White make a joke. Everyone laughs, and for that moment he's amazing, he's fantastic, he's the centre of attention.
Our hero, this funning moron, he fancies a bit of that. So to this day, he funs about in class, plays the clown, argues with the teacher. You have no idea how much this has stunted his education.
It's great though, because he's a sharp little funner, and he's funny. Very funny. Teacher laughing when they shouldn't be funny. He's now friend with a kid called Alex Readings who moved to the school in year three. His mum met our heros mum, and they decided that I should make friends with him. We hit it off instantly. He's smart, he's funny. He's my best friend for two years.
Through year five, through year six. By now, the combination of clowning and arrogence make him the funner we all know today. But he's not as good at hiding his insecuritys, and he's still a kid anyway, so he's like a spoilt brat. He crys a lot, usually when he loses at football. He's very good at football.
People like him though, and he goes out with a girl called Rachel Wheeler. He likes her because she also acts older than she is.
OK, that last paragraph was a lie. People don't like him. Not really. This can be proved by the fact that he is no longer friends with most of the Cholsey people. The Primary school friends.
Whatever, he gets 555 sats, and goes to Secondery school. Once there, he's still very good friends with Alex, but he hangs around with 'the gang'. 'The gang' are the cool people from Cholsey school. This group are the ones who do dens, the ones who find scraps of porn lying around, the ones who are good at football.
Through Year seven, through year eight. He's an attention seeking funner, and he reads Smash Hits and listens to All Saints. This is probably because they did that RHCP cover. That's one thing I like about this kid - he has a decent taste in music.
Yeah, that's probably the only thing I like about this kid. He's pretentious, he's fake, he's insecure, he wants to be better than everyone else. He's uptight to the point, even now, at thirteen, that even if something happens and he is no longer uptight? That the ball of deep rooted psychological funnedness was to be untwisted?
There'd still be crease marks.
He's funned, even now, at thirteen.
---
To be concluded.
There have been no replies to this thread yet.
And then he sat down to write his life story. It's a stupid concept, really - diluteing and editing and condenseing his everything into a beginning, middle, and end structure. There's no way he could ever have a complete life story, because you can never write things as real as they actually are. You could never even with a million words begin to describe the way it feels to, say, feel lonely.
The begining of the story is easy to place. He was born at 11.50 on 12 / 2 / 87 - a thursday. That means he missed Friday 13th by ten minutes. Not that it's made much of a difference, but it's a nice thing to ponder.
He has an older sister, aged four. Of course, he can't remember anything that far back. A baby seems to be too busy learning, taking it all in, to be concerned with recording and collateing and organising all that it sees.
For this part of the story, he has to make do with what other people remember of him. He learnt to crawl backwards before he learnt to crawl forwards. He had a speech impediment that meant he had to pause for a few seconds before speaking, so that the words didn't all come out too fast and all in a jumble. His mum was worried about this, so she considered a private school. It never happened.
Later on, they spend five years trying to teach him French.
Whoa. Jump back a bit. His mum was a childminder, and had four kids of her own. Needless to say, although she undoubtedly tried her best, attention was probably scarce. She was a really good childminder, and so she ended up with the nastiest, most difficult kids. Our star, the one telling his story right now, he remembers one story that his mum told him about a month ago.
If this sounds pretentious, I apologise. Im not trying to be more than I am, not today. I'm just not too good at telling storys.
Anyway. This kid called Thomas Bonner, who was a few years older than our star. Naturally, as all kids do, our hero looks up to Thomas, wants to be like him. That's what learning is - imitating those older than you. Our hero, our star, our storyteller, he does this way too much - he always wants to be like the older kids.
This runs throughout his life.
Thomas Bonner used to call our hero, as though he was going to let him play with the big boys. Then, as our kid, smiling that goofy little kid smile, runs clumsily toward the door, Bonner slams the door in his face and laughs at the disappointment.
I'm sure this happened more than once. I'm sure that this is the root of the paranoia that is part of our heros psyche - the paranoia that everyone is against him. That everything he knows and loves are all laughing at him behind his back. That one day they're all going to slam the door in his face and he's going to be left with nothing.
Sorry, sidetracked. I havn't done this sort of thing before.
So this kid goes to playgroup, goes to nursery school. He's shy. Very shy. Finds it hard to make friends. He has a little sister and brother, the former of which adores him, and he looks up to his big sister as the coolest thing in the word. Because thats what kids do. His best freind is a kid called Joe Cranny, a year older than him. They used to play Care-Bears, standing in the middle of the park and shoving thier tummies out, shouting 'Care Bear Stare!'.
Joe went to school a year before he did, and leaves him behind in the process.
Jump a bit. He goes to school, and loves it. For some people, learning is such a rush. Especially this kid - he's so funning sharp, so nimble of mind. He takes to maths like a fish to water, falling into the numbers, loving that he is better than everyone else. He can't do art to save his life, or anything else practical for that matter, but the mental things? He's sorted. He's a genius.
Friends? Kids from the neighborhood, the ones he's randomly met and played with. Nick Bright. His next door neighbour, Luke, again a year older. Best friend is a kid called Joe Nathanielz, who he to this day remembers speaking to for the first time at an induction evening for the primary school. Our Heros greeting to this boy was 'why do you have brown skin?'. The reply was 'I don't know'.
You see, that isn' racism. But if our kid said that nowadays...he'd be killed. Our hero is a racist, though, if you mean it stictly. That's the fault of Enid Blyton books and TV. It goes against all his liberalist ethics, it goes against every moralistic bone in his body, every notion of equal rights he holds in his funned up head, but when he saw a black kid in the library last week?
He wondered what he'd stolen.
He decided that the kid would only be here so he could rent out some ganagster video.
He instantly thought the kid was illiterate.
That's the fault of rap music. That's the fault of movies that show black ghettos. That's the fault of Enid Blyton for casting 'Gollywoggles', black people, as the baddies in Noddy.
That's the fault of not meeting a black person until he was going to primary school.
But anyway, Joe becomes a good friend. Thing is, black kids mature faster than white kids. Joe acted older. Always the older kids.
---
Jump to some time halfway through Year Two. A girl he fancies (Kayleigh Windybank), and will fancy for the entire time he spends at Cholsey school, writes six sides of A4 for something. Our hero, this stupid racist bigoted little funner, he engages in a little primitive flirting. He does eight pages.
He was completely overwhelmed with the praise he got for it. It was about a trip to a museum. He had the admiration of the class. Eight pages of drivel, yes, but eight pages.
At what point do kids decide that doing well at school is not something to be admired? Is it when they see adverts saying 'Finally! A way to make homework fun!'?
This is when he starts loving to write. He loves writing to this day. This long piece of crap is proof that our hero loves to write. It's recording. It's creating. It's affecting other people.
When you can make other people feel, when you can use words alone to make them cry?
That is power.
That is achievement.
That is proving that you are better than they are.
But I've gone off track. But you've stopped reading. Whoever this ends up going to, you're not reading anymore. Which is fine, because this is not interesting. The thing is, other peoples problems are just not interesting. People don't care about other people. That's not a critisism, thats just the way things are.
I advise you, if you are still reading, to take a break, and come back to this. It is far from over.
So anyway. Our hero, this arrogent little ship thats been told how great he is by his teacher for the last two years, by everyone, he still yearns attention. It's a deep insecurity. It haunts him to this day. He sees this kid in his class called Adam White make a joke. Everyone laughs, and for that moment he's amazing, he's fantastic, he's the centre of attention.
Our hero, this funning moron, he fancies a bit of that. So to this day, he funs about in class, plays the clown, argues with the teacher. You have no idea how much this has stunted his education.
It's great though, because he's a sharp little funner, and he's funny. Very funny. Teacher laughing when they shouldn't be funny. He's now friend with a kid called Alex Readings who moved to the school in year three. His mum met our heros mum, and they decided that I should make friends with him. We hit it off instantly. He's smart, he's funny. He's my best friend for two years.
Through year five, through year six. By now, the combination of clowning and arrogence make him the funner we all know today. But he's not as good at hiding his insecuritys, and he's still a kid anyway, so he's like a spoilt brat. He crys a lot, usually when he loses at football. He's very good at football.
People like him though, and he goes out with a girl called Rachel Wheeler. He likes her because she also acts older than she is.
OK, that last paragraph was a lie. People don't like him. Not really. This can be proved by the fact that he is no longer friends with most of the Cholsey people. The Primary school friends.
Whatever, he gets 555 sats, and goes to Secondery school. Once there, he's still very good friends with Alex, but he hangs around with 'the gang'. 'The gang' are the cool people from Cholsey school. This group are the ones who do dens, the ones who find scraps of porn lying around, the ones who are good at football.
Through Year seven, through year eight. He's an attention seeking funner, and he reads Smash Hits and listens to All Saints. This is probably because they did that RHCP cover. That's one thing I like about this kid - he has a decent taste in music.
Yeah, that's probably the only thing I like about this kid. He's pretentious, he's fake, he's insecure, he wants to be better than everyone else. He's uptight to the point, even now, at thirteen, that even if something happens and he is no longer uptight? That the ball of deep rooted psychological funnedness was to be untwisted?
There'd still be crease marks.
He's funned, even now, at thirteen.
---
To be concluded.
The begining of the story is easy to place. He was born at 11.50 on 12 / 2 / 87 - a thursday. That means he missed Friday 13th by ten minutes. Not that it's made much of a difference, but it's a nice thing to ponder.
He has an older sister, aged four. Of course, he can't remember anything that far back. A baby seems to be too busy learning, taking it all in, to be concerned with recording and collateing and organising all that it sees.
For this part of the story, he has to make do with what other people remember of him. He learnt to crawl backwards before he learnt to crawl forwards. He had a speech impediment that meant he had to pause for a few seconds before speaking, so that the words didn't all come out too fast and all in a jumble. His mum was worried about this, so she considered a private school. It never happened.
Later on, they spend five years trying to teach him French.
Whoa. Jump back a bit. His mum was a childminder, and had four kids of her own. Needless to say, although she undoubtedly tried her best, attention was probably scarce. She was a really good childminder, and so she ended up with the nastiest, most difficult kids. Our star, the one telling his story right now, he remembers one story that his mum told him about a month ago.
If this sounds pretentious, I apologise. Im not trying to be more than I am, not today. I'm just not too good at telling storys.
Anyway. This kid called Thomas Bonner, who was a few years older than our star. Naturally, as all kids do, our hero looks up to Thomas, wants to be like him. That's what learning is - imitating those older than you. Our hero, our star, our storyteller, he does this way too much - he always wants to be like the older kids.
This runs throughout his life.
Thomas Bonner used to call our hero, as though he was going to let him play with the big boys. Then, as our kid, smiling that goofy little kid smile, runs clumsily toward the door, Bonner slams the door in his face and laughs at the disappointment.
I'm sure this happened more than once. I'm sure that this is the root of the paranoia that is part of our heros psyche - the paranoia that everyone is against him. That everything he knows and loves are all laughing at him behind his back. That one day they're all going to slam the door in his face and he's going to be left with nothing.
Sorry, sidetracked. I havn't done this sort of thing before.
So this kid goes to playgroup, goes to nursery school. He's shy. Very shy. Finds it hard to make friends. He has a little sister and brother, the former of which adores him, and he looks up to his big sister as the coolest thing in the word. Because thats what kids do. His best freind is a kid called Joe Cranny, a year older than him. They used to play Care-Bears, standing in the middle of the park and shoving thier tummies out, shouting 'Care Bear Stare!'.
Joe went to school a year before he did, and leaves him behind in the process.
Jump a bit. He goes to school, and loves it. For some people, learning is such a rush. Especially this kid - he's so funning sharp, so nimble of mind. He takes to maths like a fish to water, falling into the numbers, loving that he is better than everyone else. He can't do art to save his life, or anything else practical for that matter, but the mental things? He's sorted. He's a genius.
Friends? Kids from the neighborhood, the ones he's randomly met and played with. Nick Bright. His next door neighbour, Luke, again a year older. Best friend is a kid called Joe Nathanielz, who he to this day remembers speaking to for the first time at an induction evening for the primary school. Our Heros greeting to this boy was 'why do you have brown skin?'. The reply was 'I don't know'.
You see, that isn' racism. But if our kid said that nowadays...he'd be killed. Our hero is a racist, though, if you mean it stictly. That's the fault of Enid Blyton books and TV. It goes against all his liberalist ethics, it goes against every moralistic bone in his body, every notion of equal rights he holds in his funned up head, but when he saw a black kid in the library last week?
He wondered what he'd stolen.
He decided that the kid would only be here so he could rent out some ganagster video.
He instantly thought the kid was illiterate.
That's the fault of rap music. That's the fault of movies that show black ghettos. That's the fault of Enid Blyton for casting 'Gollywoggles', black people, as the baddies in Noddy.
That's the fault of not meeting a black person until he was going to primary school.
But anyway, Joe becomes a good friend. Thing is, black kids mature faster than white kids. Joe acted older. Always the older kids.
---
Jump to some time halfway through Year Two. A girl he fancies (Kayleigh Windybank), and will fancy for the entire time he spends at Cholsey school, writes six sides of A4 for something. Our hero, this stupid racist bigoted little funner, he engages in a little primitive flirting. He does eight pages.
He was completely overwhelmed with the praise he got for it. It was about a trip to a museum. He had the admiration of the class. Eight pages of drivel, yes, but eight pages.
At what point do kids decide that doing well at school is not something to be admired? Is it when they see adverts saying 'Finally! A way to make homework fun!'?
This is when he starts loving to write. He loves writing to this day. This long piece of crap is proof that our hero loves to write. It's recording. It's creating. It's affecting other people.
When you can make other people feel, when you can use words alone to make them cry?
That is power.
That is achievement.
That is proving that you are better than they are.
But I've gone off track. But you've stopped reading. Whoever this ends up going to, you're not reading anymore. Which is fine, because this is not interesting. The thing is, other peoples problems are just not interesting. People don't care about other people. That's not a critisism, thats just the way things are.
I advise you, if you are still reading, to take a break, and come back to this. It is far from over.
So anyway. Our hero, this arrogent little ship thats been told how great he is by his teacher for the last two years, by everyone, he still yearns attention. It's a deep insecurity. It haunts him to this day. He sees this kid in his class called Adam White make a joke. Everyone laughs, and for that moment he's amazing, he's fantastic, he's the centre of attention.
Our hero, this funning moron, he fancies a bit of that. So to this day, he funs about in class, plays the clown, argues with the teacher. You have no idea how much this has stunted his education.
It's great though, because he's a sharp little funner, and he's funny. Very funny. Teacher laughing when they shouldn't be funny. He's now friend with a kid called Alex Readings who moved to the school in year three. His mum met our heros mum, and they decided that I should make friends with him. We hit it off instantly. He's smart, he's funny. He's my best friend for two years.
Through year five, through year six. By now, the combination of clowning and arrogence make him the funner we all know today. But he's not as good at hiding his insecuritys, and he's still a kid anyway, so he's like a spoilt brat. He crys a lot, usually when he loses at football. He's very good at football.
People like him though, and he goes out with a girl called Rachel Wheeler. He likes her because she also acts older than she is.
OK, that last paragraph was a lie. People don't like him. Not really. This can be proved by the fact that he is no longer friends with most of the Cholsey people. The Primary school friends.
Whatever, he gets 555 sats, and goes to Secondery school. Once there, he's still very good friends with Alex, but he hangs around with 'the gang'. 'The gang' are the cool people from Cholsey school. This group are the ones who do dens, the ones who find scraps of porn lying around, the ones who are good at football.
Through Year seven, through year eight. He's an attention seeking funner, and he reads Smash Hits and listens to All Saints. This is probably because they did that RHCP cover. That's one thing I like about this kid - he has a decent taste in music.
Yeah, that's probably the only thing I like about this kid. He's pretentious, he's fake, he's insecure, he wants to be better than everyone else. He's uptight to the point, even now, at thirteen, that even if something happens and he is no longer uptight? That the ball of deep rooted psychological funnedness was to be untwisted?
There'd still be crease marks.
He's funned, even now, at thirteen.
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To be concluded.