I’m balding and my hair is getting decidedly grey. Since it can’t possibly be due to my age, abuse is the only reasonable explanation.



Not having abs like Brad Pitt. I must be prone to emotional over eating (what the Germans, in all their wisdom, call Kummerspeck – literally translated as ‘grief bacon’)



Being Broke (Because I was Buggered). It is too alliterative a statement to be false.



I can get engines to run, but I’m dreadful at tuning carburetors. I blame El Pedo. He used to carve gnomes out of wood. What the f**k does a wooden gnome carved by a pervert know about creating the optimal fuel/air mixture at half-throttle in a late-seventies Japanese triple? Thanks a million, a**hole.



The reason I am not a massive film star (see: Brad Pitt, above) is because, like the vast majority of victims of childhood sexual abuse, I have not had a lead role in a major summer action blockbuster.



Same goes for Pulitzer prizes. The vast majority of buggerees have been unable to win – or even get NOMINATED – for any major literary awards. ‘Nuff said.



Dribbling in my sleep



A tendency to over-elaborate stories and bore the listener before I get to the good bit.



A tendency to have forgotten why I was telling the story in the first place, making it impossible to remember what the good bit was in the first place.



A tendency to tell stories. Seriously, Jonno – shut up already.



I’m REALLY BAD at returning phone calls. This is a classic reaction to boyhood botty-groping. Look it up.



Don’t look it up.



I have skateboarded pretty much all my life. I cannot ‘Ollie’. This is a travesty. As is pederasty. Q.E.D.



I am one of those people who will ALWAYS blow out the crotch on a pair of jeans before I blow out a knee. I look at those people who walk down the street in faded old denim, flaunting their ripped knees, and I curse my lot in life.



I CANNOT fold fitted sheets. I have tried. I even googled it once, in a fit of desperation, and followed a video demonstration on YouTube. No improvement.



I am currently unemployed, which I blame on the economy, which was assf**ked royally by the Bankers. Or the Freemasons. Democrats. Jews. Republicans. Vatican. Whoever. My point stands.




Oh, there’s more. So much more. Buggery is a burden I bear every day. Without buggery, oh how perfect my life would be…