My growing lack of knowledge is really starting to upset me. I don't know how something that's lacking can grow but that's just typical of me, you see. Thick. I don't know where Strasbourg is, I don't know how or if wasps fuck and I don't know where you cut the umbilical cord. Not that I'm intending cutting any umbilical cords but say I HAD to cut one, I wouldn't know where to start. I could cut a baby's head off. My total lack of knowledge is a danger to society. Is it at the baby's belly button? That seems right. What seems wrong is that I'm 42 and have no idea where the cut-off is in the umbilical cord. I used to have an umbilical cord, for fuck's sake.
I wish I was joking when I said my abundance of ignorance is taking up my every waking moment. I'm not. A few night's ago I lay awake because I couldn't figure out where concrete came from. WHERE DOES CONCRETE COME FROM? I mean, it's everywhere. I must know where it comes from. Is cement and concrete the same thing? I'm not sure. No. I'm sure I don't know. That thought took me up to at least 3am. The next day was taken up by circumcision. Obviously, I know that it's a religious thing but why does circumcision happen? I also know that pretty much everyone I know knows that it's a religious thing because when I've asked "What is the point of circumcision?" the response is always "It's a religious thing". THAT'S NOT AN ANSWER. In what way is it a religious thing? What does it represent? If it's a religious thing, aren't you just admitting that God made a mistake? Why not wait until the person being circumcised is old enough to say "You know what? I really want to be circumcised"? Then slap him and remind him he's talking about his cock. I understand that if you have a medical condition then circumcision could be the answer and I have known for a very long time that circumcision is a religious thing (although there is no such thing as a religious baby. If you can't control your bowels, why would God be interested in you?) but why don't I know WHY it's a religious thing? And why doesn't anyone else? Why do we just accept circumcision and cement and Strasbourg and wasps without knowing really what they are? And what's the deal with airline food?
Worrying about all this has been a...well, a worry. But insult was added to injury the other day and I've come to the conclusion that instead of thinking about why I don't know things, I've got to actively find out the facts myself. I've written about this before but here it goes again: To Muki, everything that once contained something is a bag. Freezer bags, sandwich boxes, egg shells. These are all bags to my wife and therefore end up in our bag bag. I use the bag bag twice a day. I take bags from the bag bag to pick up Jerk's poo in the park. Sometimes the non-bags in the bag bag are easy to spot: an envelope is NOT a bag. But others can slip through my radar. So, Jerk pooed and I took a "bag" out of my pocket to pick it up. It wasn't a bag. It was, at best, a bit of cling film. Brilliant. I picked up the poo but only after getting shit all over my hand. Obviously, it's my little princess's shit so I'm not bothered too much. The public loos are right there, they open at 10 am and it's 10.20 so I can wash my hands and it'll all be fine.
The loos aren't open yet.
Why would they be? Fucking hell. I'll just walk Jerk for an hour and when I get home I'll wash my hands. All I have to do for the next 60 minutes is not touch anything. I wiped most of the poo on a tree (sorry, tree) but still had traces, streaks even, of it on my hand. During the next hour my head filled with all the circumcision/concrete/umbilical cord thoughts that have been annoying me all week. What I'm saying is, I started thinking and when I think I forget. How can someone forget they have animal excrement on their hands? I have three words for you: CIRCUMCISION CONCRETE UMBILICALCORD. I got home, took Jerk off her lead and switched on my laptop. I printed out some documents to look over. There were quite a few of them so I had to sort this bunch of paper out, put them in the right order. That's when I licked my thumb.
Yep. That's me. The man that knows nothing but the taste of his own dog's anus.
ps Thanks for listening to Mr Blue Sky, the Radio 4 sit-com written by Andrew Collins and featuring me as Sean, a 25 year-old genius pianist. You can find out about it here: http://tinyurl.com/6xod7aa
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