After I published my seminal sociological work ‘The Sexualisation of Despair’ back in the autumn of 2016 (and to great acclaim, I might add) I came to the decision that the time had come for me to take a radical change in direction and to this end I embarked upon what was to be a highly successful career as a stand-up comedian. Before very long however the jokes started to fall flat and I found myself back to Square One with all that that entails. I developed a fetish concerning words – whenever I would come across a new word or phrase that I liked I’d repeat to myself over and over again, enjoying the shape that it made in my mind. ‘Enjoy’ is too moderate a term for what I was experiencing in fact; I found myself deriving extreme amounts of pleasure from certain words. Other words brought me pain and I dreaded them. My life degenerated until it had become no more than ritualised parody of anything decent, anything wholesome. I grew to hate myself, but I hated other people more. Instead of being a kind and tolerant human being I became testy and cantankerous and given to fits of pointless petulance. That’s when I decided to reinvent myself and to this end I embraced the cause of Transhumanism and what has since become known as ‘Cybersexuality’. That innocent-sounding word, which conceals so much darkness! I fell in love with a toaster but in truth – although I didn’t know it at the time – it was no more than an immature infatuation. The relationship started off well enough but before very long we were arguing night and day. Things got pretty bleak and I found myself wondering if perhaps there wasn’t some kind of deep-seated flaw in my personality which was dooming me to a life of unremitting futility. My friends agreed that this did indeed seem to be the case and everyone wondered what I could do about it. I invented an imaginary kingdom and quickly became King – I ruled fairly but at the same time ruthlessly and in time I started to regain my self-respect. The tactic had worked. What started off well soon became sour however and I ended up as a demented tyrant, having people executed if they so much as looked at me sideways. Before very long I’d executed half the population whilst the other half I had had imprisoned, and more than that, I was having them tortured on a continual basis to force them to provide information that they didn’t actually possess. That is how controlling I’d become! My therapist friends informed me that I was disturbed and that I should seek help. That’s pretty much the problem with having therapist friends of course – no matter what you do they will always say that you have got a problem and that you should seek help! It’s an automatic mechanism for them – they are just making sure that they always have a job, as far as I can see. That’s what I call the Pathologization of Everyday Life. That could be a book in fact. So anyway I realised that I’d lost my moorings in life and that I was adrift in a sea of uncertainty but I also realised that this was a perfectly normal thing to happen, not anything to get worried about or seek professional help for, or anything like that. I went back to my addiction to certain words and phrases on the basis that ‘better the devil you know than the one you’re not as yet quite so sure about!’ My life slowly came back on track and I eventually regained my old confidence, that old, old confidence that it never let me down, no matter what die circumstances I might have happened to find myself in. I knew who I was and I knew what I wanted in life and the fact that this was a total lie didn’t bother me in the least! I enjoyed the word ‘Candypack’ and I used to say it to myself over and over again when I thought no one was listening. As words go it was one of the better ones, one of the very best and I came to believe that it held certain magical powers. I used the word to protect myself and to ward off evil spirits. No one likes evil spirits after all. I’m exhausted now – I’m exhausted because I’m talking too much, or thinking too much. At the table next to where I’m sitting here in the hospital canteen (which used to be the old nurse’s home) these two guys are talking at length about kippers and smoked trout. One guy was saying that when you pickle fish that makes their bones softer so you can eat them more easily. You aren’t going to choke so readily on the bones, in other words. That was something I never knew, anyway. That is new information for me. The level of fatigue that I am experiencing is truly remarkable however – I marvel that I’m able to carry on sitting here. I just want to lie down on the floor. Fatigue is never too far off for me – it’s a kind of an underlying condition that I have I think, although I’ve never actually been formally diagnosed with CFS. I can’t be bothered to get formally diagnosed. What’s the point anyway?