And They're Off

I play many roles in life, and I'm a disappointment in all of them. I'm a barely-adequate student, a so-so brother or son and a subpar employee. I fall short in all of these capacities because I'm cheap, lazy and indifferent to the suffering of my fellow man. But fear not I haven't missed my true calling in life. All of the qualities that make me a terrible human being equally make me a fabulous 'comedy' blogger. I have what it takes to let a situation completely fall apart while I profit at the expense of anyone stupid to be involved, myself included.

Last weekend for example, my father and I were out cruising in his van. We were heading into town to collect my sister from work, I went for the spin as it was a painfully boring Sunday and for once eating crisp sandwiches and playing Sylvanian Families couldn't keep me busy. Quickly though what was just like a scene from Postman Pat manifested into the setting of a Hollywood action blockbuster.

It started off so beautifully.

I noticed almost instantly that the only vehicle on the road was the one we were in, this is a primary national road, thousands of cars pass through our neck of the woods everyday, something weird was up.

Then out of absolute nowhere a bright red race car sky rocketed past us. Seconds later another set of wheels did the same, I didn't see the drivers inside but I suspected they would be mocking us. Vehicles kept coming and my heart rate kept increasing. I know nothing about motors, but I do know that an impaired three-seater van that reserves an entire seat for Pringles had no place within that race.

Involuntary swearing and rapid scratching followed about five minutes of panicking. We both knew we had to do something before the next Lewis Hamilton joyrode into the back of us. We couldn't pull in as this event could be going on all day and I was not prepared to share such an enclosed space with a social farter for a proceeded amount of time. He sensibly decided to just exit off the next slip road available.

Of course before this could happen we were exposed, crowds of locals were out to catch a gawk at the madness of Formula One driving. In the space of two minutes anyone I have possibly ever met encountered the embarrassment of my father and I navigating through the absurdity. I saw friends, neighbours, old classmates, ex-bosses, past colleagues, I think I even recognised a babysitter we once had roughly fifteen years ago, they kept coming, ecstatic faces, each one erupting into a louder form of laughter than the other at the sight of Burger King and I looking dumb.

My ogre of a father then for reasons I'll never fully understand decided to beep the horn, again, again and again. Maybe to ease the awkwardness? Maybe because he wanted to challenge the staggering embarrassment to his own advantage? Or maybe because the entire concept of me ever having a healthy social life just was too good to be true.

I'll be honest, if there was a plastic bag in the van at that moment I'd have availed of it for non-recreational purposes. I wanted the ground to swallow me up, it didn't. I wanted to disappear, I didn't. I wanted to cry and eat an entire box of chocolates, that I did do when I eventually got home.

I have little shame left in my life to work with from here.