I've got a stonking hangover today. I don't know why I do it to be honest? Gill always said I was a borderline alcoholic, I certainly don't feel like a drink right now, so I guess that means I can't be an alkie, they don't just like a drink, they need a drink. Actually, now I've said that, I reckon a little one just to take the edge off things might help.
Gill's been at the forefront of my mind recently readers, I've not really had the time to be thinking of old friends, not since I started the new job, but she's nearly three months gone! Wow, how time flies eh?
I was really pleased then when my my old friend Dave, the roofer, texted me and asked me I fancied a drink up, "for old times sake", he'll never get the hang of apostrophes. God only knows what kind of father he'll make! I was so glad he got in touch, becasue I wanted to tell him all about how I've totally landed on my feet with the new job.
When I met up with him he wasn't wearing his beloved John Terry Chelsea shirt, he reckons Terry is going to do the off, some bloke he knows who works at Marcos restaurant told him. He called Terry a "fucking Judas", which is Dave's staple insult for an footballer who has moved clubs. Dave was wearing what looked like an American football shirt with Gretzky 99 on the back. Which I thought was weird, because Dave can't stand Americans.
The last time I'd spoken with Gill, just before I started my new job, she'd told me that Dave the roofer had presented her with £10k and promised £1k per month indefinitely for the upkeep of the child that she had decided to selfishly keep. Now, the way I figured it, Dave must have gotten himself into some murky roofing scams to come up with that sort of money, either that or it was an out and out lie by Gill just to belittle me. But it turns out that Dave's rich uncle Dave from Edmonton passed on a few months ago and left him with a bag of cash and one or two properties. It's easy to be generous when you're rich isn't it?
Dave, the roofer, had always talked about his rich uncle Dave from Edmonton. But I never even met him. Seems Dave's father and his brother (Dave - Dave's uncle) had set up a roofing business in the late 70s, then much like Adolf Dassler and Rudolph Dassler founders of the sporting goods giants Adidas and Puma, the two brothers had an almighty argument and went their separate ways.
Dave's father handed down the Chelsea roofing business to Dave, meanwhile Dave's uncle Dave moved to Edmonton and started afresh. Now, I thought that meant he'd moved to Edmonton, Enfield in North London, but actually he'd moved to Edmonton, Alberta in Canada!
That's quite the rift. Anyway, Dave told me all this over a pint or eight in the Imperial on the King's Road. Seems Dave has spent the last few weeks over in Canada. Dave reckons his uncle never married out there, and in his last will and testament he left Dave his entire estate, under the proviso that Dave moves out to Edmonton to run the business!!
Dave wasn't going to do it, out of loyalty to his father, but then when Gill came along and ruined everything, he thought it would make financial sense. Plus, Dave's dad said to him that it'd be all right, he'd take care of things in Chelsea and anyway Dave has had enough of living in London, "cos of all the immigrants". I pointed out that when Dave moves to Canada to take over the Edmonton roofing business, he'll be in immigrant himself. But I don't think he quite understood.
We had quite an emotional night, as you can well imagine, it will be terrible to see the back of Dave. We've had such a journey together. Get this though, he's asked me to be the Godfather of his unborn child! I said I wasn't sure that Gill would be keen, but he just winked at me and said he has certain ways of talking her around to his way of thinking, then he did this thing with his tongue in his cheek and said "she loves it Bazzler." Well, I felt a bit sick to be honest, but we'd had a few sherberts and so I let it wash over me.
The thing is readers, I'm not sure that I should accept Dave's invitation to be his child's Godfather. As regular readers will know, I've been taking in-depth looks at religion and it's made me appreciate the finer points of the need for spirituality, that said what if Gill and Dave decide the back the wrong horse at the font? I'm not sure if I could live with myself if I stood up in an anglican church and promised to God that I'd look after Dave and Gill's child, if God forbid, anything should happen to them, only to then discover at a later date that it's not the anglican God that I should have been making promises to, but the Catholic God or worse still the Jewish God, now I've done some reading around the subject and I can catagorically say that you wouldn't want to fuck with the God of the Old Testament, he'd rain down bad on yo ass.
Imagine, you're dead right, and then you find out that actually you should have paid attention to the Jehovah's Witnesses who knocked on your door the previous weekend and now you're doomed to wander the Earth in limbo like an unseen zombie in that film with Rickey Gervais. The thing is, at least you've made your choice, as it were, I might well have been rude the doorstepping God botherers, but it was my choice, and that's my right as a human being. It's called FREE WILL, duuuuuuuuh! But If I stand up at a font in the wrong type of church and make a load of promises, won't that just anger the correct God?! And then I've pretty much condemed Dave and Gill's child to a lifetime of blasphemy and an eternity in the fiery pit of the hell of whichever God I've gone and inadvertedly pissed off.
It would be hipocrisy, and no one could accuse me of being an hippocrates. Least of all Dave the bloody roofer, who, when all's said and done, decided to bang my recently ex'd girlfriend, bring a bastard child into the world and then bugger off to the other side of the world.
I might suggest that we work on signing Dave junior up to a selection of some of key religions right from the get go, just in case.
Anyway, I'm off to take a dump now.