Having just watched The Wrestler (again) I have decided I am to write a story of a similar mould. I think it would be pretty easy to do so, and I have the story of someone from real life lined up to perfectly fit the mould. Mould.
ME. See, I’m exactly the same as Randy “The Ram” in that I have long, flowing blonde hair, have had a heart attack, do steroids all the time and regularly dive off things to headbutt people laying on the ground. One of those is true.
Alright, I wish one of those was true. The last one. It would be ace to regularly flying headbutt people. They wouldn’t fuck with you then. What’s that? You disagreeing? BAM FLYING HEADBUTT SHUT THE FUCK UP.
Where am I?
Right. It must be easy to write these really fucking sad stories with ambiguous endings, because it’s such a straightforward thing. When it comes to making a film of whatever I write I’ll need someone less lazy than me to make sure it’s accurate, but generally speaking it’ll be great. One of those really bleak things that’s genuinely affecting.
It’ll be about a man who sits in a dressing gown he really ought to wash quite a lot (a lot as in the washing and the sitting) and he just can’t give up writing even though he’s past it and he should have quit a long time ago and he has issues with drinking in the sense that he can’t afford to do it as much as he wants to and he can only afford to do things when he borrows money and he’s such a scumbag that he always pays people back in full and he has a conscience and is generally quite a nice person, if not a bit aloof and brusque.
Actually, no. That’s a shit film. Decent profile for a dating site, though. LADIES.
Then he hits someone with a diving headbutt. Oscar please.
And no, I’m not drunk.