Croaked.

Have you ever been at a party, an occassion full of joy and celebration and dozens of people, and felt completely on your own? Or have you ever been out with your very closest friends, people who love you, and yet you feel utterly alone? Well, you're a bit of a wanker, aren't you? Loneliness is one of those words that gets on my nerves because of its constant overuse. He is not a GENIUS just because he carries a bottle opener on his keyring, she didn't get BULLIED just because everyone disagrees with her opinion on Community and you're not LONELY just because you had some shit nights in recently. 

Being alone is more damning than that. I'm probably very sensitive at the moment due to...well, everything. I'm trying to finish writing my show for this year's Edinburgh Fringe  and already the massive paranoia is having a good laugh at me inside my own head. I will be the oldest person at The Fringe. I will be the shittest person at The Fringe. None of my friends are going up this year. All the other comedians will be there with their sexy, hot, young clique that I'm too old to fit in with and their telly contracts and their sell out shows and their constant sex. Everyone banging away while I'll be up there completely on my own playing to an empty room whose very bricks and mortar know I'm a hack. Everyone fucking everyone at all times while I go back to my room alone and cry through another Doctor Who box set. Every single person sliding into every single hole while I sit alone in the wet stench of my own missed opportunity of an existence. What I'm saying is, you know that wanker I mentioned in the first paragraph? That wanker is me.

I might have a reason though. Maybe I've actually hit rock bottom. You might think that worrying about your contribution to this planet over the few months that you're on it coupled with the fear that everyone is having a better time than you is the worst you can feel. Perhaps you might consider that the very definition of loneliness. You're wrong. Because what if it wasn't just you alone while everyone is having a better time? What if every THING is having a better time? What if you saw proof that you're barely alive compared to absolutely every single thing on this planet? What if God herself told you that YOU. ARE. ALONE? Those noisy, cheery parties where I don't quite fit in seem like Michael Legge fan conventions now.

Being at a party seems such fun and there will be someone out there that knows you're at that party and is jealous of you having a great time. They don't know the truth. They don't know how apart from these other people you are. And going on holiday sounds great, too. I went on holiday last week and I'm sure there was someone out there that was jealous of me having a great time. But they weren't there. By the swimming pool, with a cocktail, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night. Alone. They weren't there.

No one was.

That was when I saw the frog. A frog came along and joined me by the pool. I love animals and take great joy in being around them. Especially when I'm by a glamorous swimming pool and drinking a huge cocktail...in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night. Alone. That frog came along and he became my friend. My sole companion in the darkness.

Then another frog appeared and he fucked it.

I wasn't feeling great before that frog came along and now that he's simply come along to have sex right in front of me, I'm not feeling any better. And I couldn't tear my eyes away. I watched two frogs fuck. From beginning to end. Does anyone even watch pornstars fucking from beginning to end? I doubt it but I was alone and it was dark and I was so far away...and I couldn't stop watching two frogs fucking. Two sexually charged amphibians who simply came along to show me that their life is carefree, exciting and infinitely superior to mine.

Then they finished and the female frog left. It was just me and the original frog, my frog, again. He had something special that he shared with someone and now she was gone. He was alone. Alone, just as I was. Well, frog my friend, it looks like we have only each other.

Then another two frogs appeared and he fucked them.

Two frogs just appeared and hopped over to the pool. ONE FROG WAS INSIDE THE OTHER FROG but they were still hopping, using the power of their fucking to transport them from the cool grass to the glamorous surroundings of the pool. And the original frog, MY FROG, fucked them. He fucked those frogs while they were fucking each other. I watched the whole thing. They just fucked and fucked and fucked and fucked and looked at me and my cocktail that I had instead of a life. I sat there, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, wearing sandals and I watched a frog threesome. Alone.

Then they finished and the two frogs, one still in the other, left. The original frog, my frog, stayed by me and looked at me. "I've fucked three people tonight", he said. "How's the cocktail?". I took a sip and it tasted of rust and cobwebs. But he can be as smug as he likes because, yes, he may have an amazing life full of experimental sex and swimming pools but he's as alone as I am now. That's my point. "Sooner or later, we all sleep alone", I said to him.

Then another frog appeared and he fucked it.

I went inside after that. How can you tell me that you're lonely and say for you that the sun don't shine? At least you didn't spend the night quoting Cher to a very horny frog. 

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