The Masked Rodent

I wear a mask.

A hamster mask.

I don’t think this is news to anyone and in fact I’m sure I’ve written a piece on this baloney before so I’m not going to go over old ground.

Anyway, the hamster thing is just for you lot on Twitter and reading the blogs. In real life I wear a different kind of mask. Its the mask of a confident young (ish) man who knows what he’s doing in life.

Not me. I only have two arms

People look at me and think there’s a man who knows what his Tax code means or there’s a bloke who knows exactly what he’s doing at work and even, there’s a chap who knows the names of all his kids friends.

None of this is true.

Ask me anything even partially adult related and your voice becomes the sound of the sea lapping on the shore while I drift away in my own little world of football and SpongeBob.

Spongebob AND football? #MindBlown

But that’s not always obvious as, bizarrely, I have managed to do alright in life despite having no skills whatsoever.

I own a house and yet I can’t do a thing in it.

Decorating? Can’t do it

Drill a hole in the wall? Can’t do it.

Mend the guttering? Can’t do it.

I have a job in Sales and yet I would struggle to sell meth to a crack whore on payday.

Not interested

I’m married but I’ve not got a clue how all those people knew to come to that church on that date at that exact time.

I have two children but I’m still not convinced I was doing it right at the conception.

Another mask I like to wear is that of a person with good taste in music.

I drive on the motorway a lot and, as you may be aware, on the motorway no one can hear you play Kylie and Jason. I’m happy to have the volume turned up to 11 in the car when Hey Mickey or The Safety Dance comes on my Spotify but the minute I’m in a built up area I’m popping on some Muse, Prince or Arctic Monkeys, winding the window down and letting everybody know that – THIS guy? He’s alright.


One front I can’t don however is the tough guy mask. I’m not huge in any sense so unless I need to do battle with Warwick Davis I’m not fooling anyone.

On the subject of Warwick Davis do you ever think it’d be alright to use the phrase “While you’re down there” to someone who was bereft of height? I know its funny on the surface of it but do they get it a lot?

Still bloody massive to me

I guess it would be like Richard Osmon saying it to me in which case it’d be hilarious the first time but probably wear thin by the time Greg Davis and Stephen Merchant had tried it on too.

But to be fair, that’s a party I’m not getting invited to anyway.

Back to what I was saying, I don’t actually think I’d really want to fight someone even if there was a strong possibility of victory because I never fancied the idea of hurting someone. Especially if they were smaller than me because, let’s face it, that would make them an infant.

So the only place I ever come across semi hard is in the car.

Giving someone a dirty look as I roll past (a bit like Kermit in that GIF) after someone has cut me up is me at my toughest and I know they aren’t going to confront me because

  1. The car’s moving and they ain’t catching me
  2. The doors are locked
  3. I look quite big when I’m in my booster seat
I’m gonna kick yo ass halfway up the stairs

I had an incident a few days ago
on the dual carriageway that I reckon made me look pretty damn cool. I was overtaking a lorry at the point the lanes were merging. I didn’t realise the lanes were merging because I was daydreaming about SpongeBob again.

But at this point I was committed even though both time and road were both running out. I slammed my foot down and zoomed past the 17 tonner with enough room to spare as not to kill anybody and faded into the distance.

Fackin’ lunatic!

Without doubt the lorry driver would’ve said to himself “Look at that dozy prick. But I bet he’s listening to Queen or Kasabian or something equally as cool”

It was Lady In Red by Chris De Burgh.

But he’ll never know.


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