At certain times in a man's life, he is confronted with decisions. A big one in every man's life is whether or not he should give his bank account details to the nice people at the Nigerian People's Lottery (I'm still waiting Nigerian People's Lottery!). Another decision all of us with a Y chromosome, and some of those other people who have two Y chromosomes like James Hetfield of Metallica fame, must make is whether or not we should wear clothes in the morning. While I am informed that James Hetfield of Metallica fame rarely chooses clothes, so far during my time on the planet I have decided that clothes have been preferential to the alternative of public nudity.
With this in mind, I decided that last Thursday was the perfect time to try public nudity out. I steeled myself the preceding Wednesday night, confident of a positive and life-affirming nude experience, like the positive and life-affirming experience James Hetfield of Metallica fame had while in rehab. I went to sleep with baited breath, which meant I woke up gasping for air a few times, but was a sign of how excited I was. Just like James Hetfield of Metallica fame before a shower, or even lesser exciting things like going on stage. With all the excitement it took me at least 25 minutes and 15 seconds approximately to fall asleep. I think this could be more to do with my bed though. I bought it from a garden centre for a very reasonable price. It said 'plant bedding' on the label, but I assumed what's good for a triffid is good for the gander, and therefore me. One drawback is that when I wake up in the morning about 5% of my bed is stuck to my skin, but one brush down and a shower later and I'm clean again. So after eating my weetabix, I was fully prepared for the day of public nudity that lay ahead, and started thinking of all the great conversations that could be started with people enquiring about my nudity. I knew it would be a great way to meet girls. But this got me thinking...
What do girls love apart from nudity? Well, the answer is James Hetfield of Metallica fame, but apart from that what else? Why, SPACE OF COURSE! So I decided my original investigation would have to be put on hold while I scored scores of chicks in my soon-to-be astronaut suit. Did you know in Russia they are called 'Cosmonauts'? And that originally David Bowie was an astronaut called Tom, but changed his name because it had more 'star power'? Ha! That zany vegetarian. Anyway, after searching all of my house I had the most awful realisation: I don't actually own a spacesuit. I sat down and remembered what my dad always used to say: 'when in doubt, use a dremel multi-tool. And if you don't have one, use tinfoil.' OF COURSE! The answer was right there (thanks dad!). So I went in my garage and looked for my dremel multi-tool, which it turned out I hadn't gotten round to buying. So I quickly loaded up my PC and bought one from Amazon, and all this while still in the nude. Take that, society!
Still, this didn't solve the problem of the Space suit. The only thing to do here was remember my dad's second favourite thing, tin foil. I had heard of make-believe space suits made out of tin foil, so I decided I would head down to Tesco's and purchase some to fashion a temporary space suit until my Dremel multi-tool arrived (which I have on Amazon Prime, which for the uninformed is a service providing next day delivery. I am told James Hetfield of Metallica fame endorses the service, so it must be good.) Anyway, I headed out of my door to see the postman. He looked at me in an odd way, which wasn't unusual since the last time I saw him I told him to 'get lost and take your damned letters with you. Who do you think I am? Do you think I WANT all those bills? NO! Take them back you foul demon spawn in shorts!' So I avoided him as best I could, and vaulted the gate in a charming, boyish way. I did this because girls love charm and boyishness, so I thought I'd get a head start on the space suit plan. Imagine if any girl who saw me do that saw me in the space suit; she's be all like 'wow! A guy who is charming and boyish, and who loves space! He's perfect!' Ha, I can't believe all the chicks I'll be scoring soon. So anyway, I wandered on down to Tesco's, and waltzed boyishly up to a staff member and asked where the tin foil was. They looked worried and startled, but pointed me to the relevant section. When I got there I noticed an array of tin foil sizes, so I picked the biggest and decided to try it on for size. I ripped off a bit and put it on my head, only to be grabbed around the arm by a burly and not very boyish security guard. In fact, he was so un-boyish and so un-charming he reminded me of James Hetfield of Metallica fame. He put me into a small room, in spite of my protests about scoring chicks with my space suit plan. It made perfect sense - why would a man in the nude with a tin foil helmet look suspicious? Clearly a man dressed in such a fashion is out for women. Anyway, the next thing I knew I was being escorted to a farm! And not just any farm - the people who escorted me kept calling it a 'funny farm'.
Turned out this place wasn't funny at all. They kept injecting me and things, and it took an awfully long time before my mother came and got me out. So, the only thing I managed to find out this week was that security guards aren't boyish or charming, and they don't like people who are. So take my advice: always, always go to Tesco's while fully clothed. If you don't, you won't have a pocket for your Dremel multi-tool.
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