With Good Intentions

Now, as it happens… or, more usually, doesn’t…. Well, you know the way it is, you start off with all these good intentions, determined that this time everything will be fine, and then something happens, maybe it is those bloody penguins again, up to their old tricks. Alternatively, perhaps the local Diversity Outreach Co-ordinator has exploded down the street again when she became aware of the self-contradictory paradox of her existence, or maybe your marmosets need a bath.

Anyway, whatever it is, there lie your good intentions ripped up and muddy like the promises of a political manifesto that shrivel to dust like the vampiric anachronisms they are when confronted by the harsh daylight of this real world.

Well, we assume it is the real world, after all the neighbours of your imagination would – surely – have much better curtains than that. You would also presume - at least - one of them would slightly resemble your favourite screen actor of your more vigorous late night imaginings, rather than the rejects from some local amateur re-imagining of Zombie Nights – the Musical, beings whose idea of a riveting opening conversational gambit is the state of the drains, or ‘kids these days’.

Then, by the time you’ve got this far, you’ve forgotten what it was that seemed so important, what you were going to say, way back in the beginning.

So, in the end, it just tails off and fades awa….