There are many things in the world. Some of them are round. Some of them are not round. Some of them confuse you by looking like they’re round but then revealing themselves to actually not be round.
But there isn’t everything in the world. If there was, we wouldn’t have to invent things like this incredible invention I’ve just come up with: the pocket GP.
For my non-Brit readers, a GP is like a man who checks your boo-boos for you with sticks and pulleys and things. Sort of like a doctor, only taller and more handsome. Also they’re psychic and know everything about you, and have a penchant for sticking their fingers up your bum. Pervs.
Picture the scene: you’ve just woken up in a room that smells distinctly of the worst farts ever. To your left is the person sharing your room (but not the bed cos that would be well gay like), who has contributed to this war crime.
This needs to be pointed out, to set the scene.
You soon realise your head hurts in The Bad Way and your stomach is warning your brain to warn you that some shit is about to go down. Well, some chunder is about to go up. Whatever. It does.
It isn’t pretty. Though the orange colouration is somewhat comforting.
You do not know why this is happening. You have not eaten anything that others haven’t, you have not gone and drank water laced with AIDS. You would like to feel better, but for the sake of curiosity you would like to know what the hell caused this ailment.
This is where the pocket GP (patent pending) comes in. Using some sort of voodoo, you rub it on your nuts or something and it figures out what is wrong with you and how you got the wrongness wronged all over you.
Then you find who to blame for feeling like shit since Sunday and you end their life. With the pocket skull hammer.
Can’t wait to make my first million!