1945

IT’S OVER. No, I’m not talking about the war. War never ends. I’ve read 1984. If you join me on the blog today, as at the time of writing 1945 others have in the past (that’s how many hits Blogpatrol says I’ve had, and far be it from me to argue), then I’m afraid to say the relationship between myself and my Mother has reached an irreconcilable end.

Selfish bitch that she is. I called her up last night and told her that her f*ckbuddy, bloody Roger, had threatened me over the phone, he was threatening me with financial ruination because he was jealous of the relationship we had. She told me that she had been speaking with Roger and they had no secrets, she said she agreed with him, that she’d been too soft on me. It was at this stage that I revealed that Roger is actually a paedophile. She said I was being ridiculous. Maybe I am, readers, but surely I can’t stand by and watch her walk into the biggest mistake of her life. I told her that he had made inappropriate advances towards me.

She put the phone down on me. ME. Her only son.

Well, that’s it. It’s over. I’ve discovered a website that gives helpful hints and tips on how you can divorce your parents. It’s pretty straight forward actually, there’s no binding legal contract between a parent and its progeny, and once the child is considered an adult in the eyes of the law, they can pretty much do as they please.

Much like the Muslims who can divorce their wives by verbally announcing “I divorce you, I divorce you, I divorce you” then clicking their heels together, divorcing a parent requires nothing more than sheer will.

SO, mother of mine, until you see sense, I divorce you, I divorce you, I divorce you.

Your (no longer faithful) son

Barrington

Ps. I’ve decided not to bother with the Bill Chill, festivals are so last year.