Young Jamie: Portrait of a Serial Douchebag (Part 7)

What I love about this entry is the tone of persecution, and the stubborn refusal to accept any responsibility whatsoever. DAMN YOU GOD! WILL THOUEST NOT BE SATISFIED UNTIL I HAVE NOT ONE UNRIPPED KNEE IN MY SCHOOL TROUSERS? Clearly I hadn’t stolen my sister’s sand timer, and clearly I hadn’t then broken it. Don’t you see? I was fitted up! Not an amazing re-enactment of the crime in any case. It looks like a black skittle with rolling pins for arms is about to smash up a warp core. GREAT IDEA ALERT: kids should be employed to sketch up real-life scenes for Crimewatch. ‘Did you see an elongated stick man with fire for hair and bikes for legs acting suspiciously in Norwich town centre last Friday? We’d like to hear from you.’

What I love about this entry is the tone of persecution, and the stubborn refusal to accept any responsibility whatsoever. DAMN YOU GOD! WILL THOUEST NOT BE SATISFIED UNTIL I HAVE NOT ONE UNRIPPED KNEE IN MY SCHOOL TROUSERS? Clearly I hadn’t stolen my sister’s sand timer, and clearly I hadn’t then broken it. Don’t you see? I was fitted up! Not an amazing re-enactment of the crime in any case. It looks like a black skittle with rolling pins for arms is about to smash up a warp core. GREAT IDEA ALERT: kids should be employed to sketch up real-life scenes for Crimewatch. ‘Did you see an elongated stick man with fire for hair and bikes for legs acting suspiciously in Norwich town centre last Friday? We’d like to hear from you.’

Young Jamie: Portrait of a Serial Douchebag (Part 6)

What a tough child I was. Watching Jaws 2, and then going swimming. Fear came knocking, I answered, and I kicked its ass. Up yours, sharks! Kiss my armbands, you finned motherfuckers! Technically, though, I wasn’t really going swimming. I was going ‘swinging the baths’, whatever the fuck that means. From looking at the corresponding picture, it seems that ‘swinging the baths’ involves recreating ‘The Ascent of Man’ in a frightfully multi-coloured way. Apparently black is the least evolved colour, or so said my disgustingly racist little brain. But, hey, never mind that: softball! Fucking softball! Awesome! Em… is that softball? Really? Maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s a Frenchman defending the Arc de Triomphe against a blue-haired caveman on a very sunny day using only a giant spoon… which DID happen on one of our family holidays… Anyway, through analysing my pictures it‘s clear that watching Jaws 2 caused rigor mortis, and watching Doctor Who caused me to transform into a wooden chair, which in turn sat upon an even less realistic chair.

What a tough child I was. Watching Jaws 2, and then going swimming. Fear came knocking, I answered, and I kicked its ass. Up yours, sharks! Kiss my armbands, you finned motherfuckers! Technically, though, I wasn’t really going swimming. I was going ‘swinging the baths’, whatever the fuck that means. From looking at the corresponding picture, it seems that ‘swinging the baths’ involves recreating ‘The Ascent of Man’ in a frightfully multi-coloured way. Apparently black is the least evolved colour, or so said my disgustingly racist little brain. But, hey, never mind that: softball! Fucking softball! Awesome! Em… is that softball? Really? Maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s a Frenchman defending the Arc de Triomphe against a blue-haired caveman on a very sunny day using only a giant spoon… which DID happen on one of our family holidays… Anyway, through analysing my pictures it‘s clear that watching Jaws 2 caused rigor mortis, and watching Doctor Who caused me to transform into a wooden chair, and then sit my chairy ass upon an even less realistic chair.

 

Illustrated diary entries from my Primary 2 school jotters.

 

Young Jamie: Portrait of a Serial Douchebag (Part 4)

OK, so I was 6 years old and my mum let me watch Billy Connolly. So what? Exposure to Billy Connolly at such a young age had no fucking effect on my fucking development what-so-fucking-ever, so get fucked on that score if that's your fucking argument, you fucking bastard. You're nothing but a wee fucking jobby. Anyway, I told my teacher about it in my diary, and she didn't seem to give a fuck, so that's okay. I really like how I've really nailed Connolly in this picture; it's like looking at a photograph of him. Not a single real-life detail is left out, from his blue face and Ming the Merciless beard, to his naked yellow body and massive, heavily bleeding gash wound across his neck and shoulders. It's like a van Gogh (only by virtue of the blood running down Connolly's face and body). Anyway, he's one of my earliest comedy heroes, and if he knew back then that his routines would act as an inspiration for my own forays into stand-up, he probably would have killed himself.

OK, so I was 6 years old and my mum let me watch Billy Connolly. So what? Exposure to Billy Connolly at such a young age had no negative fucking effect on my fucking development what-so-fucking-ever, so get fucked on that score if that’s your fucking argument, you fucking bastard. You’re nothing but a wee jobby. Anyway, I told my teacher about it in my diary, and she didn’t seem to give a fuck, about the possibility of me picking up naughty fucking words or becoming more aggressive, so what in the name of shite’s cunt are you getting involved for, pal? Hmmm. I really like how I’ve nailed Connolly in this picture; it’s like looking at a photograph of him. Not a single authentic detail has been left out; from his trademark blue face and Ming the Merciless beard, to his naked yellow body and the massive, heavily bleeding wound across his neck and shoulders. It’s like a van Gogh – not the artistic style – mainly because of the blood running down Connolly’s face and body. Oh, and we all know how much Connolly hated conventional stages back in the early days, preferring instead to tell jokes on top of a giant log. Anyway, he’s one of my earliest comedy heroes, and if he’d known back then that his routines would act as an inspiration for my own forays into stand-up, he probably would have killed himself.