Thursday

I put my bag on the floor today at the train station only to realise too late that I had in fact placed it directly into some spit. How is spitting on the street not punishable by law? It is essentially the expulsion of bodily fluids onto a public surface. If I did a shit into the corner I’m positive I would end up in either prison or some kind of high security mental institution. I blame footballers. They spit everywhere, indiscriminately. You shouldn’t be able to pay a grown man the amount of money they get paid if he still thinks spitting in public is fine. I bet if I came round to one of their gaudy Cheshire mansions and spat in the pool they wouldn’t like it.

Wednesday

I was mugged today. Second time since July. This means that over the last 6 months, I have now been mugged more times than I have had sex. This saddens me more than I could possibly hope to express. The muggers (average age about 7) told me that if I didn’t give them my phone and money then they would “screwdriver” me in the face. I felt both scared and like an Ikea flatpack cupboard at the same time.

Monday

There is a group on Facebook called ‘Find This Evil Rapist and Fucking Hang Him!’ It seems that a lot of the people I went to school with who were chavs and idiots have joined this group. One message on the wall was:

‘Their is no way this fucker shud b allowed to live if I had the chance I wud fuck him up the arse and see how he liked it the cunt.’

The unintentional irony in this statement almost overwhelmed me.

Sunday

I was accused of looking down a woman’s top today. I didn’t even mean to. She bent over in front of me and my eyes instinctively looked towards her breasts. It’s not my fault. Men, as a sub-species, cannot help it. We are like moths to a mammary flame. We don’t even think, we just do it. I bet I could be blindfolded in a room of women and still be able to pinpoint the exact second even a small hint of cleavage was displayed. It’s genetic. But the fact I was caught wasn’t even the worst part of this mortifying experience. Once she had seen me looking, she then said to me: “Do you want a peek at my gash as well?” I almost had a stroke I was so embarrassed. I left Tesco feeling like I should sign the sex offender’s register.

Saturday

I googled ‘foot porn’ today. Turns out I don’t have a foot fetish.

Friday

Today, the man sitting behind me on the train sneezed onto the back of my neck. In what can only be described as an act of consummate Britishness, I decided not to say anything. I now feel ashamed of myself. It’s because of people like me that Robert Mugabe and Kim Jong Il are still in power.

Wednesday

Received a text message today that defied every law of the English language. I’m not even entirely sure it was written in the English language. This is what it said:

‘Ys m8 wot u dn ws wndrin if u fncd a pint lol lmao.’

When I read it I felt a bit like that woman who had to solve those codes during the second world war. Text messaging is now beyond my comprehension. This is what I text back:

‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’

On retrospect, I think this reply lacks a certain humour. Either way, I’m deleting the person from my phone. I can’t be friends with someone who feels that it’s acceptable to send messages like that.