day twenty eight

i had this marvellous idea the other day it was to search out nother book i started writing some time back fifth form in fact nineteen eighty seven a bloody long time ago it was called i am the bastard subtitled the secret diary of ramsford ingleburt pachmann aged 1 3/4 and was an obvious ripoff of the adrian mole diary stories because at that time the adrian mole stories had been made into a tv series and were being shown on local tv and it was this that gave me the inspiration to start writing this story which has in fact turned out to be the first of the unfinished masterpieces that i have written and now included in the second unfinished masterpiece i am currently writing because as this masterpiece is not yet finished it must be an unfinished masterpiece no matter what my intentions may be concerning the finishing of this masterpiece yes yes but as i was saying i did manage to find this and i also found something i wrote in the sixth form which must have been no do not tell me i know it ahh nineteen eighty eight yeah that is right nineteen eighty eight sorry but my memory is not what it used to be these things happen and you start going senile and soon the family put you in an institution with a whole lot of boring senile twits who could not even tell you the time of year let alone their name rank or serial number but all that is a year or two away for me at the moment unless i go really downhill and start acting like a politician you know dumb lazy ignorant and piteous which is something i sinceeeeeeeerely hope willl not happpen for a number oof weeks yet but you never know i could be struck at any time but away from all this nonsense this second piece of brilliant literature is really brilliant and i am not sure whether or not it is the start of another masterpiece which must make it my first and a half masterpiece if bastard is my first and this is my second but i feel that it also works quite well on its own and it may only ruin things if i try to add to it but we will just have to see later will we not and just to prove once again that I am indeed psychic please forgive any correct punctuation spelling paragraphing etc in the next two and further editions as I recapitulate these masterpieces to you which will make this book a sort of antithesis of the books of ben elton and alexei sayle where they relate a story interspersed with meaningful political and social comment this will be a book of meaningful political and social comment interspersed with story because if the mood takes me i may actually write some more of bastard and possibly the other as yet unnamed anecdote so you will just have to be weary of that will you not and take care that you are not getting my political and social comment mixed up with my story there I told you that i would prove to you that i was truly psychic and I just have by telling you that the next couple of writings you will read assuming you read them in the order written will be story correctly written story and if that does not prove to you that i am psychic i honestly do not know what the fuck will

I AM THE BASTARD - THE SECRET DIARY OF RAMSFORD INGLEBURT PACHMANN AGED ONE AND THREE QUARTERS

It all started off when my father Police Constable Pachmann (PCP to his friends) was at a friends 21st celebrations. In those days they into everything - drugs, drink, the Beatles, flowers, and even Jesus. He wasn't quite PCP back in those days, about 2 years off it actually. It turned out that the parents of the young gentleman, in whose honour the celebrations were taking place, had bought the whole stock of the local liquor dispensary, a large crop of marijuana, a complete history of psychedelic music recordings, a few sheets of some funny little sticky label things to put in drinks, and a shop full of brightly coloured flowers from Interflora. It appears that the family had a dollar or two put aside.

As a result everyone got extremely high on a mixture of the drugs, alcohol and pollen. And consequently, as things progressed, my father, along with most of the other guests, joined in the participation of a huge sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll orgy. Unfortunately, for me anyway, the hosts neglected to remember that these were the times of promiscuity among many of the young people, and hence, also neglected to supply some very essential precautionary aids, and thus, there happened to be a number of accidents, well at least one anyway. My father got some silly slut pregnant, and because he fornicated, for want of a better word, with so many women that evening he managed to lose count after the first one (we assume that he did indeed have more than one) and could he remember who the silly trollop was? Nooo.

Well nine months later and I arrived at his flat. He turned up some time later to see me all dressed in a cute pink knitted 1-piece outfit. I must admit rather modestly that I looked beautiful, a real treat. My mother had pinned a note to my quaint matching pink hat that read: 'Hi Pachs, here's your son, have him and keep him'. As you can see Mum was obviously very poetic, as well as a true fashion follower.

Daddy was furious, especially since he almost wanted to be a policeman. He tried to remember who he had fucked in the last nine months, he was good at human biology, but he never could figure out who Mum was. He rang Grandma, but all she said was what a naughty little boy he was. Daddy rang Moonbeam Laserlight his hippy plaything and she taught him how to put on my nappies, how to feed me, how to shut me up, and how to put me to sleep. Ms Laserlight (Moonbeam) looked after me while Daddy was at work. He worked as a courier for the local LSD supplier to save up to be a policeman.

Moonbeam was really good and generous and considerate and compassionate and kind to me. I loved her. Once she even ODed on some china white right before my eyes, and what could I do ? I was only a year old, I couldn't even say 'cool man'. It was really heavy. This started Daddy up again, taking his old medicine - he had to go cold turkey because of his job, this time a policeman, but here he was doped every shift and me at only a year old crawling around the home on my own. That OD was fatal and that's why Daddy was doping and I was left alone. I think it was this that made me into the man I am today.

All those joints and tasty little stickers and white powder lying around the flat made me a very happy baby indeed. I was on an almost constant high. I got my pilots license, because I was flying so high I needed it. Then Daddy bought home that woman. She called herself Marianne, but everyone knew her as Jacqui. She was spunky and they did it in the floor in front of me that night, and it looked fun, I could see why Daddy did it so often.

Well that's how I came into this world. I bet it was more exciting than your first year, eh !

that was the start of my first masterpiece which was not very subtle or aesthetic but i was only young and that can be my excuse and now it is my first and a half as yet untitled masterpiece is coming up

MY FIRST AND A HALF AS YET UNTITLED MASTERPIECE

"No you silly bastard" said the man in the Italian 3 piece and mac, while miraculously standing under an umbrella with one leg on his upright briefcase, and the other cocked very much like a dog.

That sudden outburst, which are very infrequent, was in reply to a question by a rather inquisitive young lad of 2.

And what was this question ? Well, it had to do with the man's state of mind, and whether or not he could lend the boy 50 pence to buy an iceblock on this mild summer day.

After this somewhat offensive response the boy threw two wellies into the nearby lake, one scaring the feathers off a big black swan. The fact that these wellies were actually the property of the obnoxious man, made it all the more fun. But the man made no move to do anything about retrieving his boots. He only stood in the sun, under the shade of his brolly, swaying on his briefcase, and twinkling his toes at passer-bys, many of whom, for one reason or another, gave him a strange look; the sort of look you give someone who is doing something extremely strange in the park on a nice New Zealand summer's day.

It really made no sense at all to the man in question.