If
somebody held a gun to my head and ordered me to get up and sing karaoke, I suppose only then might I consider it. Because as much as I would love to be able
to carry a tune – the truth is I can't hold a note for toffee. I don't even sing in the
shower.
Instead, I use all bathroom intermissions to reflect and cogitate
on issues important to me at the time. in fact I would say that some of my best thinking is
done when I’m showering
or sat on the loo but all too very often, completely random and curious stuff just
pops into my head. . Just take the following for example,
a notion that turned up inside my head just
recently.
When my number comes up, I hope the
Grim Reaper doesn't just show up completely unexpectedly and un-announced at an inopportune
moment and expect to escort me away agreeably, particularly if I’m not dressed suitably for the occasion – like when I'm having a shower. Because the idea of suddenly
finding myself on the other side bollock-naked but for a shower cap or grasping
a sponge loafer and then having to wait in the new arrivals queue , alarms me considerably. At the very
least I hope I’m given sufficient time to iron a clean shirt and shine my shoes.
My point is, as much as I’m comfortable wearing jeans and tee
shirt, personal appearance is very much a key factor in my life. This has
always been my maxim; If you dress badly people will always
notice the clothes and
make judgement accordingly, but if you dress sharply - people will notice the person inside and
this will make an enormous difference.
Consequently, my main concern is that my cropped hair, scars and missing teeth and the '1%' gang tattoo on the side of my neck (that’s
another story) will attract the attention of the
doormen who no doubt will be stood on either side of the pearly gate.
If I am then detained so that background checks can be carried out,
will I then ultimately fail
to meet their expected criteria entitling me to access
into Heaven with permanent
residency and a full set of angel wings, or will I be wrestled to the ground
and restrained before being sent back to earth so my soul can be recycled.
Because I’d be furious to find myself being reborn and coming back as
say, a moth or possibly as farm stock. Have you ever looked closely at a bunch
of cows stood ankle deep in mud and shit in the pouring rain,
all looking pissed off and thoroughly depressed and probably all thinking the
same damn thing;
‘Is this really as good as it gets?’
Personally I think I’d rather fancy my chances downstairs with Beelzebub.
Having said that, please don't presume for one moment I have a history of
violence or criminal activity because this is not the case. If this were so
then I wouldn't be able to hold a pub licence or work with young offenders but
as a repentant ex-member of an outlaw biker gang, it would be foolish to deny
the dozen or so skeletons I have hoarded at the back of my closet.
I can only hope and pray that my voluntary work with young
offenders and of course my service to queen and country in operational theatre,
will be taken into full consideration before any final decision is made by the
big man himself.