Men are strange. The last time I actually saw another man was quite a while ago, right enough, but he was strange. He was walking his horse on the beach on Christmas Day. Who does that? I might even have talked to him – just to see – but didn’t fancy the look of his horse. This in itself is quite strange, because I normally find the hindquarters of horses worryingly attractive. There is just something about the shape that appeals.
There is a horse that lives right outside my window. Beautiful thing. Utterly laidback and really good with Emma (my dog). I’m not saying I want to lift up his tail and get atrocious – come on, give me a break, it’s freezing outside – it’s just that, well, I don’t know. So I’m strange too.
And Leo Sayer, it transpires, is not only strange, but also perfectly detached from reality. How in the name of Jesus is it possible to pack so much delusion into such a tiny little singer? The guy is a total cake, to be sure, and his fall from grace was meticulously gruesome to behold.
So three different men – me, Sayer, horse guy on beach – and all of us clearly doolally. It seems fair to extrapolate from this exhaustive survey that all men are strange. In fact, I would go as far as to say that this proves that all men want to caress horses on the beach whilst singing in a high-pitched voice and demanding clean underwear from TV producers. You know it makes sense.
And if you don’t, so what? My comments are disabled and there is nothing you can do. I can sit here pronouncing grandly on a whole manner of things, blithely indifferent to my own escalating pomposity and conveniently shielded from dissent and, you know, reality. I’ve noticed that this is something that quite a few bloggers like to do. They are invariably men. Like I say, we’re a strange lot – and there remains a suspicion that we are rather too in awe of our own fondly imagined sagacity.
How long do you think it would take for a man to start believing that others are as impressed by him as he is with himself? I’m thinking not long. And that’s just the shortest step away from believing that it is enough for you to simply say something for it to be the truth.
With that in mind – and because this is the last time my comments will be disabled – I want to say a few things which cannot be challenged by grubby interlopers. Your silence will be my confirmation and validation:
1) I am simply magnificent in bed
2) I have no extra padding around my tummy
3) Or face
4) I know everything
5) Strangers find me magnetic and charming
6) I was a real laugh when I was drunk
7) My magnificent man-tool is not laughably small
8) I always remember to cleanse, tone AND moisturise
9) I am generous, wise, not at all needy, and I smile a lot
Now I just need to come back here every day, read these words, notice that they remain blissfully unchallenged, take this as proof of their veracity, and begin the gratifying process of congratulating myself on my own magnificence. Or have I missed something?
Shut it.
