Wednesday, 18 March 2015

This Charming Man

Stop me if you think you've heard this one before.

We've been having psychic trouble with poor Snodgrazz since the 80s Revival Service (mullets and Our God Reigns) as he claims he is now channeling the Spirit of the 80s.

Specifically, he's looped back into his adolescent Smiths phase. I asked him if he could at least come out to Pouring out of Beakers - see if the quiet spirituality could touch his soul - but he tells me he hasn't got a stitch to wear. I blame this whole episode on his trauma when, after a long period on Jobseekers, he obtained employment but then realised he didn't like it. Heaven knows he's miserable now. And it's changed his view on animals. He won't eat his favourite wallaby stew - says meat is murder.  I said - us living near the M1, and it being cheaper - that it's roadkill, but he says what difference does it make?

So we sent his best mate, William, round to see him on Saturday - see how he was feeling - but he told him that it was really nothing. In some respects it was just as well he stayed in, given it was Electro Revival Night, and after what he said he would do the DJ if he played any more "Heaven 17". And I feared collateral damage. I wouldn't want to be responsible for the death of a disco dancer. Instead I sat with him and we discussed former Liverpool managers - how they compare to Brendan Rodgers and who we think the best is. Frankly, Mr Shankly was the conclusion.

But it's really unnerving late at night. Hearing the sound of "Girlfriend in a Coma" echoing round the building, to the rhythmic accompaniment of Snodgrazz  banging his head on the wall. He tells me it's because he can't sleep. But then, it must be tricky for him, sleeping in a room when he insists there is a light that will never go out.

Anyway, we've sent Sheila, the Community's resident retired (and therefore unpaid) nurse round to see him. She tells me he's still ill. And he's insisted he take one of his rather weird hair bow collection with her. He buys one every week, in memory of the girl who jilted him in 1986 and who was fond of this particular item. It's a real obsession, and he swore he'd stop when there were no more different bows in the local haberdashers shop. But the cunning shopkeeper, realising he had a potentially endless income stream, has sourced a different bow every week from around the world. Poor Snodgrazz has started something he couldn't finish.

1 comment :

  1. You have such a variety of the needy living in your community. I'm sure that it's not down to your caring attitude. I suspect that there's some element of human 'trafficking' going on there.

    For example Snoddgrazz would be a perfectly respectable 9-5 Banker or Disc Jockey anywhere else, but visiting your community out of curiosity about the 'new seven wonders of the world' he was 'DruidKnapped' and held as hostage until someone paid a ransom. When you discovered that he was a needy orphan, who'd just left care, you grasped the opportunity to indoctrinate him with your 80's taste in music and he was enslaved.

    Sadly, you've been caught out. The sanctions imposed on his Job Seekers has reduced your tything no end, so now you're trying to marry him off to his best friend or a retired nurse, totally unsuitable companions for a 'Smiths' addict.

    No, he needs treatment and urgently. Perhaps a brainectomy might be appropriate.


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