Sadism vs Masochism
With a clack! clack! clack! I rose out of my bed this morning like an old rusty First World War tank with a broken gun trying to fight my way out of a deep muddy trench. My legs slowly rotate, fighting the tangled bedsheets on my way out of the pit with the orchestral sound of Thus spoke Zarathustra playing triumphantly in the background... Thus spoke Zarathustra? Yes. I hear it every morning. Here I am sat on the edge of my bed with the music in the background contemplating what to do with my ageing bones, and; mmmm, I recon I'm gonna have a bacon sarnie for breakfast. I'm up! Like a child I sit on the edge of the bed swinging my feet to and fro in the cool morning air contemplating my failing knees. I stumble in the darkness towards the bathroom. You fecking idiot, Wayne. Why did you leave that dust pan and brush at the top of the stairs? If I'd tripped and fallen I wouldn't have given much hope to the breeze block wall at the bott...