Life... With No Breaks (A laugh-out-loud comedy memoir) Read Online Free
Author: Nick Spalding
Beriberi disease with nothing more than a spatula, Petri dish and good intentions...
You may have saved twenty bawling children from certain death in a cable car accident...
You may have done all these things, but I bet the memories that jump from your subconscious more often than not are the ones you wish you could forget:
Got caught masturbating by your mother when you were thirteen? Bang ! It's in your head as your new lover’s hand slides down to your crotch.
Thrown in the cells for a night after stealing ten traffic cones when you were eighteen? Wallop ! There it is as the boss at your new dream job tells you they have to run a background check before you can start.
Had a haircut done by your best friend that made you look like an escapee from the local home for the mentally distressed? Boom ! There it is as you sit down in Coiffure Jacques for that hundred pound cut you’ve been saving up for over the last six weeks.
Been dancing away merrily to Rihanna in a nightclub, blissfully unaware your skirt has slid down your legs and that all the girls from work are pointing and laughing? Whack ! There it is as you take to the dance floor for a ceremonial twirl at the wedding reception with your new husband.
We all have them tucked at the back of our minds, in a special locker marked World, Swallow Me Up - ready to pop up at a moment’s notice and when you least suspect it.
I think this explains why we find solace in the trials and tribulations of others.
Misery loves company after all and there’s nothing like sharing your woes and past cock-ups with someone else to make you feel better.
Perhaps that’s what I’m doing with my little project here, if I can get philosophical about it for a moment. I'm writing some kind of half-arsed confessional to you, my brand new friend.
I’m not much of a philosopher usually.
It’s probably better to let most stuff just wash over you, picking out the bits from the flotsam and jetsam that look important. Over-thinking things leads to tension headaches and an ulcer.
Everyone has to prioritise the important from the trivial. To decide what’s likely to have a big impact on your life from what won’t.
…the tree coming towards you at forty miles an hour for instance - that’s probably quite important.
It’d be lovely to hear about something you’d like to forget. I’m as happy to listen to other people’s anecdotes as I am recounting tales of my own.
Can’t do that with you, can I?
Strictly one-way traffic in this conversation, I’m afraid.
I’m the writer and you’re the reader.
How about this then: as you can’t tell me, why not grab the nearest person you know and reveal something you’d have otherwise kept to yourself?
Go on, give it a go. It’s very liberating, I assure you.
It doesn’t matter if it’s not as gigantically horrible as my incident at the party.
Maybe you recently farted at an inopportune moment, or blurted out something you probably shouldn’t have.
I did that once.
I called a senior female work colleague of mine mum during a meeting.
We’re not talking the levels of embarrassment I achieved with my little accident, but it certainly made my face red. Hers too, for that matter.
Off you go, then.
Go confess a minor sin or indiscretion to a loved one. I’ll sit here and wait for you to come back.
...
…
Back?
Feel better?
Excellent .
Sit back in the spare chair - I’ve added a nice soft cushion.
The cookies are starting to run a bit low now - who’s a greedy little sod, then? - but I’ve got some microwave popcorn, if you fancy.
I haven’t opened the Pringles yet, so you can have the satisfaction of hearing that little floomp noise the tube makes when you rip off the seal.
Ok, back to the plot - or lack of it in this case.
What shall we chat about now, as the clock ticks its way past nine o’clock?
Time .
Let’s talk about time.
It’s a fantastic subject, especially as it
You may have saved twenty bawling children from certain death in a cable car accident...
You may have done all these things, but I bet the memories that jump from your subconscious more often than not are the ones you wish you could forget:
Got caught masturbating by your mother when you were thirteen? Bang ! It's in your head as your new lover’s hand slides down to your crotch.
Thrown in the cells for a night after stealing ten traffic cones when you were eighteen? Wallop ! There it is as the boss at your new dream job tells you they have to run a background check before you can start.
Had a haircut done by your best friend that made you look like an escapee from the local home for the mentally distressed? Boom ! There it is as you sit down in Coiffure Jacques for that hundred pound cut you’ve been saving up for over the last six weeks.
Been dancing away merrily to Rihanna in a nightclub, blissfully unaware your skirt has slid down your legs and that all the girls from work are pointing and laughing? Whack ! There it is as you take to the dance floor for a ceremonial twirl at the wedding reception with your new husband.
We all have them tucked at the back of our minds, in a special locker marked World, Swallow Me Up - ready to pop up at a moment’s notice and when you least suspect it.
I think this explains why we find solace in the trials and tribulations of others.
Misery loves company after all and there’s nothing like sharing your woes and past cock-ups with someone else to make you feel better.
Perhaps that’s what I’m doing with my little project here, if I can get philosophical about it for a moment. I'm writing some kind of half-arsed confessional to you, my brand new friend.
I’m not much of a philosopher usually.
It’s probably better to let most stuff just wash over you, picking out the bits from the flotsam and jetsam that look important. Over-thinking things leads to tension headaches and an ulcer.
Everyone has to prioritise the important from the trivial. To decide what’s likely to have a big impact on your life from what won’t.
…the tree coming towards you at forty miles an hour for instance - that’s probably quite important.
It’d be lovely to hear about something you’d like to forget. I’m as happy to listen to other people’s anecdotes as I am recounting tales of my own.
Can’t do that with you, can I?
Strictly one-way traffic in this conversation, I’m afraid.
I’m the writer and you’re the reader.
How about this then: as you can’t tell me, why not grab the nearest person you know and reveal something you’d have otherwise kept to yourself?
Go on, give it a go. It’s very liberating, I assure you.
It doesn’t matter if it’s not as gigantically horrible as my incident at the party.
Maybe you recently farted at an inopportune moment, or blurted out something you probably shouldn’t have.
I did that once.
I called a senior female work colleague of mine mum during a meeting.
We’re not talking the levels of embarrassment I achieved with my little accident, but it certainly made my face red. Hers too, for that matter.
Off you go, then.
Go confess a minor sin or indiscretion to a loved one. I’ll sit here and wait for you to come back.
...
…
Back?
Feel better?
Excellent .
Sit back in the spare chair - I’ve added a nice soft cushion.
The cookies are starting to run a bit low now - who’s a greedy little sod, then? - but I’ve got some microwave popcorn, if you fancy.
I haven’t opened the Pringles yet, so you can have the satisfaction of hearing that little floomp noise the tube makes when you rip off the seal.
Ok, back to the plot - or lack of it in this case.
What shall we chat about now, as the clock ticks its way past nine o’clock?
Time .
Let’s talk about time.
It’s a fantastic subject, especially as it
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