Sunday, 31 August 2003

David Shakespeare Part II


In January, David decided to spend some time alone with his ego. As he once said: "It's hard to be humble when you're as great as me."

David returned to the public eye in May when he kidnapped Michael Jackson's son, Prince Jackson Junior, and dangled him from the fifth floor balcony of the Llanfair hotel in Fishguard in Wales.

A few sad Welsh people were offended when David dropped the child and Prince plummeted to his death. But with that famous wink and infamous Shakespearian charm, David avoided all criminal charges, and even Michael Jackson saw the funny side in the end.

David came from a large family of writers. His great-great-great Aunt, Doris Bumblecock Shakespeare, once had an letter published in Playboy in 1879 and his great-great-great Uncle, Will, wrote some plays which were quite successful during the Elizabethan period.

David started his literary career aged 12 when he wrote to TV executive Stephen J. Cannell asking him why nobody was ever killed in The A-Team. He never received a reply and two years later, when The A-Team still hadn't killed anybody, David took his posters of Hannibal, B.A. Baracus, Face and Murdoch down from his bedroom wall and replaced them with posters of Keanu Reeves.

The posters stayed off David's wall until ten years later when he relented and Murdoch and his pals finally reappeared on David's wall.

However, David swore never to watch The A-Team again and he was true to his word - from then on he watched only Knight Rider, Airwolf, Street Hawk, Chips, Quantum Leap, Auto Man and The Wonder Years, in which the body counts were significantly higher.

Some years after the Stephen J. Cannel letter, David started writing professionally. He had several books published, the most famous of which were: David's Guide to David; How to Win David's and Influence David; The Joy of David; I Love David Coz He's Me and that popular classic, David's Guide to Satanism in Wales.

David was a big fan of popular culture. He enjoyed listening to the music of R. Kelly and Gary Glitter and he was especially proud of his collection of Pee Wee Herman films.

David had a long list of lovers in the two years he was in England. These included Paul and Caroline Heaton, Mike Bauld and Sylvia, an Italian girl with big eyes.

It seemed that no young man or woman could resist chat-up lines like: "Your dress would look good on my bedroom floor" or "I'm not Fred Flintstone but I can sure make your bed rock."

When David wasn't practising his Matrix moves, talking about Mike Bauld, eating oranges, trying to dig up Princess Diana's remains or attempting to convince people that the Welsh regime harboured weapons of mass destruction, he liked nothing more than to sit in his mahogany chair, a McDonalds takeaway at his side.

He would watch his favourite film - Shakespeare in Love - while listening to Marilyn Manson, at the same time gently stroking his Dr. Evil poster and rubbing peanut butter into his nipples.

You may think after reading this that David lead a blessed life. Well, he did. But even David had his problems. We spoke to one of his oldest friends who recalled the darkest chapter of David's life...

It began one day in Toronto when David returned home after a hard day's work as a bin man to find that his wife of six days, Agatha Christie, had left him and disappeared to Cardiff with her lover, the Secretary of State for Wales, Rhyf Griffiths.

She took their two children, David Junior and David Junior Junior, with her. The kids found it difficult to adjust at first but they soon got used to the weird Welsh people and they adopted the Welsh language as their own. And Agatha found work through Beaver Employment, as Canadian Ambassador to Wales.

Agatha and the kids wrote to David regularly but, sadly, their letters were written only in Welsh and at that time David had very little knowledge of the language or, indeed, the country.

This was a difficult time for David. His neighbour at the time, Ramesh Bead Boy, told us how he would often put a glass to the wall and listen to hear how David was tackling the crisis. He would often hear David watching Sesame Street at full volume. After the programme had finished David would start laughing and then he would start screaming. This went on about for six months.

David is, however, made of tougher stuff than this. He was soon able to put this difficult experience behind him and he soon re-emerged more confident than ever. In fact, just to show that he had no hard feelings, David had the Welsh flag sewn into his chest.

Shortly afterwards, David set off on his travels and came to the UK and the rest, as they say, is history.

We wanted to conclude this entry by speaking to some of the people who knew David well.

We visited the aforesaid hostel to interview Tiny Tim, Michael, Iker, Jenni, Reza, some Swiss people and Sylvia, who have all signed contracts to stay at the hostel for the next seven years, but the owners of the hostel, Paul and Caroline, insisted that we pay a fee.

They said we should pay twelve pounds for the first six interviews and then we could have the seventh one for free. We declined and instead tried to interview Ben Grant but he had gone to masturbate and was going to be about an hour. Fair play.

We also contacted Canadian coke dealer Deejay Dayton. Sadly, Deejay was unavailable - he had just spent half an hour on the toilet and he was busy writing a trip journal about the whole experience.

We remembered that David often spoke about a friend of his named Andrew Smithen. Sadly, we discovered that Andrew died 17 months ago after overdosing on pancakes while staying at York Youth Hotel.

David once shared a friendship with an Exeter man named Homeless Phil. Phil and David were inseparable, though they did briefly fall out when David discovered Phil had never worked for Adecco.

Phil was once a guest at the previously mentioned hostel, where he was an unhappy and lonely man. However, luck shined down upon him because one day he was kicked out and from then on he lived a blissfully happy life as a vagrant on the streets of Exeter.

We found Homeless Phil lying in the gutter outside Tesco.

After trying to sell us some rice, he agreed to talk about David. However, Phil insisted we buy him a bottle of cider. We declined and so the interview was called off. We shook Phil's hand and wished him well, then returned half an hour later and ran him over.

To conclude this entry we decided to speak to somebody who David had never met. We had hoped to find somebody intelligent and eloquent, but in the end we settled for Craig Hindmarsh.

Craig, who is the only black member of the Klu Klux Klan, said this:

CRAIG: "Well, I never did meet David. But I'm sure if I had I would have liked him. He sounded really great with hair that came down to his knees and those sun glasses. And I always did like the Addams family. I think David would really have fitted in around these parts. I'm sure he looked great in white."

On that note, we will begin to bring this entry to an end.

You don't need to read this entry again to know that David Shakespeare was, indeed, a rather unique human being who will be missed by everyone who knew him. We urge you now to join us in forwarding this entry to everybody you know. Come on! You can do it! Let's spread a little David around!

David touched people all across the Globe, from Torquay to Torbay, Exeter to Exmouth. And everyone who knew him will miss him and keep him in their hearts and minds forever.

Especially the Welsh.

As David himself would have said: "I agree."

DISCLAIMER: This entry is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to people living or dead is entirely on purpose. David Shakespeare is not dead. He is, however, returning to Canada, which is almost as bad. Probably worse. David Shakespeare does not hate the Welsh. I, however, do. And Americans. To all my American readers: Please don't sue. I have a newt and three frogs to support - and I work for Adecco.

From the memory box of a Professional Englishman.

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London, ENGLAND, United Kingdom
This is me. Read a few entries and they will tell you more about me than I can fit into these few paragraphs. Many of these entries started their lives as mass emails. That was before I discovered blogs. Thanks for stopping by and thanks for visiting my blog and reading about my life. Both a work in progress.