Electric Tosser

You're thinking about it too much. Just do it quickly. It'll be over before you know it.

Welcome to October Twenty-Thirteen!

We're getting new heaters installed on Friday. We almost froze to death last winter, so we're going to grab the mammoth by the horns and deal with it.

Heaters are expensive. We need four of them. They probably won't even work. And we'll have wasted every last penny on four expensive clothes horses. We had to phone electricians, and meet electricians, and decide which electrician would be the best electrician.

I hate being an adult. I'm not interested in making decisions. If I wanted to make decisions, I wouldn't have bought an electric coin-tosser. Which reminds me: one of the electricians had a quick look at our electric coin-tosser and has thinks the wiring isn't up to code.

They quoted us fifteen thousand pounds to rewire it. We couldn't decide whether to go through with it or not, so we let the machine decide. The coin landed on tails and blew the fuse-board. In the darkness, we snuck out and haven't heard from that particular electrician since.

It's all so overwhelming. I bought a Terry's Chocolate Orange. I don't know how to handle life.

***

I'm thinking of doing NaNoWriMo again this year. Last year's event was very productive, even if I didn't produce much that I liked. Here's an extract from my last story, Neon Tiny Fires:

Tone faced Clara and jerked his thumb over at Liam, giving her a ‘get a load of this guy!’ expression. After a few seconds of no response, he literally said out loud: “Get a load of this guy!”

Very productive.

I don't have any ideas, though. That didn't stop me last year, of course. But this year I really need to write something coherent. I've got heaters to pay for, after all.

I'm thinking of doing something political. It will give me a chance to take out some of my frustration about the world. Also, if the book is a success, they might invite me on Have I Got News For You (which they still make, apparently). I like the missing word round. The trick is to guess an inappropriate or incongruous word and the audience will laugh.

I don't watch panel shows any more. I went off them all of a sudden. I hate panel shows.

You know what? I know why it happened.

It's because I hate panels. Why do I hate panels?

Because our old heaters were panel heaters. And they were rubbish heaters. We nearly froze to death last winter. I might have mentioned that before.

They look like this:

Awful. I hate them.

I hate all panels, and things that have the word 'panel' in them.

I even hate "shrapnel" now, just because it has the letters of 'panel' in it. And I used to love shrapnel.

These new heaters will change everything. We'll be warm and everything will be OK. I'll be all cosy, writing a book that will pay for the cosiness several times over.

I'm thinking of writing something about panels for NaNoWriMo. It will give me a chance to take out some of my frustration about the world. The world of panels.

Also, they might invite me on a panel show, and I can tell this story, and it'll get a big laugh from the studio audience at the record, but will be cut out of the final edit for time.

***

My new album Love Shrapnel will be streaming on Pitchfork for half an hour tomorrow, ahead of a physical release sometime next year. It's already being called a 'stunning return to form' by those in the know.