One of the problems with being as incredibly famous and benevolent as me is that my time is seldom my own. For example, I wake up at five o'clock in the evening morning and vacuum the house from top to bottom. (Because of my hideously generous nature and the fact that I donate all of my earnings to tiny, helpless foreign children and three legged baby animals, I can't afford the busty maid from Miss Daisy's Personal Cleaners that I've had my eye on for some time now.) Then I polish every surface in sight, greet the dawn with a torch and night-vision goggles, the intention being to rid the garden of slugs and snails. (I gather them up and transport them in a container to the nearest wood...not just sling them into the alley behind the house like some people would...and in answer to the angry letter that I received from the RSPCA last week...I've no idea who's been hammering snails into the cobbles at the back of my place.) Where was I? Whatever...all this before breakfast!
Throughout the morning I meet and greet local dignitaries who are fans of my work and hold press conferences, make television appearances, pat mongols on the head, answer my adoring fans (I insist on replying to everyone by hand and don't just print out form letters with the names changed at all like some unworthy Australian legends I don't care to mention by name)...and basically get on with the minute by minute obligations that structure my claustrophobic life.
Afternoons I spend writing and scribbling. Somebody has to produce the high quality novels and cartoons for which I am so rightly famed around the globe, you know! Three novels a week and one hundred and fourteen cartoons a day requires a lot of work and I never ask for any reward. I'm just content to know that I've made some publisher somewhere enough money to drive his petrol-consuming Jaguar another fourteen feet along the road from his office to his luxury mansion.
Evenings...and I tend to my thousands of web sites across the net. This is the best time of all. It's now when I produce something special for this little board...and it's a wonderful feeling knowing that I've helped to educate some mentally deficient runt somewhere. I can collapse in bed at four-thirty in the morning full of the knowledge that I've brought a little light into this tragic world and have produced a coherent 'road-map' for a better future for the whole of mankind.
Then there's the cooking and the shopping and all the other mundanities that I, sometimes reluctantly, have to perform throughout the day, of course. Fortunately, because of my massive intellect, I've managed to bend the rules of space/time a bit so that I can squeeze in an extra few minutes here and there for new projects...such as SKUNK magazine...available in the shops soon. Only £1.50! Excellent value! Will keep you posted!
However, sometimes, no matter how hard I try to work beyond the physical limits of mortal man, there aren't enough hours in the day.
Which, to cut a long story short, is why I haven't written a blog tonight. So if you want to complain about it look into your own hearts instead and ask yourselves, "Why are you such demanding and selfish bastards?" Then try to act a bit more like me and be more giving.
Or alternatively, just sod off.