Today children, I want to discuss the future, more specifically, my future, but before I do that I want to tell you that if you spill kerosene all over yourself and do not change your clothes, the skin underneath the kerosene sodden clothes starts to burn. Things that burn also hurt a lot.

I want chocolate.

It occurred to me the other day that I hadn’t actually informed the masses of my new life plan, the 25 Year Plan™. I’m sorry to be so neglectful in my duties, so here we are:

I have decided to be Tank Green the Feminist Ethicist Extraordinaire, or Tank “La FEE” Green for short. The “La” was suggested by P&G as being an appropriate marker of my time here in France. I think this proves exactly why G is a Cambridge graduate and why I worship the ground he and his wife walk on. Anyway, in order to actualise this eventuality, I have devised the following plan:

Phase One - Go back to London as of February and finish up my Women’s Studies & Ethics degree at London Metropolitan. Because P&G are angels sent from the Great Cunt in the Void to confirm I am indeed Maitreya™, they have agreed to look after my babies from February until May which makes Phase One a possibility. They will be getting tickets to my graduation as a thank you. I’ll even give them glitter and confetti to throw on me.

Phase Two - Go to Kings College and get a second BA in Religion, Philosophy and Ethics. Kings is a mighty fine university and they will accept me because I am perfect and also because I will have one BA under my belt already.

Phase Three - With two BA’s I reckon I will have the pick of the masters programmes in something to do with saving the world from itself, with special emphasis on why you need to respect the womens.

Phase Four - Get a PhD in something even more profound like an exegesis of the writing on my womb that proclaims me as Maitreya™.

So I am calling this my 25 Year Plan™ since lord knows how long it is going to take me to get through all this school, but I am going to do it. Luckily I have the magical, mystical e.b. and Little Lord Fuckyballs on my side, so if it ever gets all foggy and I think about chucking myself overboard and swimming to Reliance on Random Chance Island again, they will morph into oars and smack me upside my head several times. Apparently this will help disperse the mists.

Actually, shit, I have to stop now because this kerosene burn is really starting to hurt in a no longer funny way. I’ve washed my arms several times and changed clothes and it is still hurting. Can anyone offer any cyber first aid? Mummy oh mummy - IT HURTS.

November 15th, 2004 | Category: My Life Love, Omnium Gatherum, The Dordogne | Subscribe to comments | Both comments and pings are currently closed