In Which I Am Feeling the Effects of Concussion

I should probably start by saying that although I will only identify people by the initials of their first name (and even less than that down the line, I suspect), it can be a little confusing. There are times when I will write about D and mean D and not D. For example, there is D who lives in Norwich and there is D who lives in Essex, but so does D. There's also D in London. I realise that it might be confusing to tell D from D, and that D will apparently change characteristics (depending on who I meet, D might start to change gender as well. And she might have double D's). If it helps, you can imagine all the D's as some sort of bastardised amalgam creating some sort of Super D, though personally I think that's rather silly.

So anyway, I was around D's last night, playing on his PS3. We'd played Resident Evil 5 for a while, a charming little diversion where to kill zombies is essentially the objective. Well, D seems to think that the objective is to take all of the ammunition and spray it so it leaves a comedy silhouette of bullet holes around the zombies. I should also mention that one player has to play as a male character and the other as a woman. D cries like a little bitch about playing as the woman, because he is endowed with a penis whose descriptive antonym would be gargantuan, and overcompensates for it. However, his generous side showed itself when he kindly allowed the honour of using my entire supply of health sprays on him.  He's affable to the zombies also- he negates the need for them to pursue him by running up to them, pulling his trousers down and bending over and presenting his bottom- similar to his seduction technique with women. I say seduction technique, I think women need to be seduced for it to be termed as such. It would more accurately be termed as a restraining order technique. Anyway, I'm not quite sure what the game designers were doing when they decided to include that function, but I expect it rhymes with rystal meth and starts with a c. The point is, the get-half-naked-present-zombies-with-buns-and-bumhole thing is only available to those players who are playing on the hardest level of difficulty, and for some reason D had insisted that had to be us. It cannot be stressed enough that when one player dies on Resident Evil 5, both players have to restart the level. Last night we were becoming very familiar with the start of the first level. Groundhog Day familiar.

I suggested that we retire for a spot of Pro Evolution Soccer 2008, since we didn't seem to be making much headway in saving the world from zombies, in fact I got the feeling that we were actually hastening its demise. Anyroad, Pro Evo 8 is the finest football game yet inflicted on mankind. It would be boasting to say that I am better at it than D, so I shall merely say that I am not worse than him at it and I am not equally as good at it as him. To counter this imbalance, D says things like "This is my house and my console", and when that doesn't work there's always the old chestnut "Mum! Muuuuuum!!" This inevitably results in D being the All Time World XI and yours truly being Eritrea. As a treat D occasionally lets me be Comoros, a country so woefully inept at football that I thought he'd made it up (sorry to any Comorans who are reading, but you really should focus your energy on tourism). Anyway, after I had taken it around all of his players and scored with the goalie Mohamed Hassani Mbalia for the fifth time, D got in a huff and picked up a nougat crisp chocolate bar and I'll say this for him- for a mincing anaemic weed he has a hell of a throw. You know how a big meteorite lights up the sky as it pushes its way through the atmosphere? This room was incandescent with flaming chocolate that surely would have melted away were it not for the fact that my head brought its supersonic flight to an end. You know when a planet gets knocked out of its orbit and falls into the sun? That was my head. I surveyed the devastation, noting that I seemed to have inadvertently deposited a rather large amount of skull and brain on the walls. "Are you going to blog about this then?" micturated D. "Of course I am. Wouldn't you tell people about it if you'd been..."  -I put on my sunglasses- "-hit by a Double Decker?"

Today's Tune

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