Justin Moorhouse: 'Having only a dial-up internet connection meant that life was expensive ...'
The Shaggy Blog Story so far:
Chapter one by Josie Long Chapter two by Marcus Brigstocke Chapter three by Isy Suttie Chapter four by Rob Deering Chapter five by Richard Herring Chapter six by Craig Hill Chapter seven by Jim Bowen Chapter eight by Paul Sinha Chapter nine by James Sherwood
Chapter ten by Justin Moorhouse
She was beautiful and educationally subnormal. A marvellous combination that meant I'd never really relax until the death of either of us would bring blessed relief. I'd lost count of the times that I'd had to explain to big horny men in bars that the reason that my sister was smiling at them and saying yes, she would go back to theirs, was because she thought that they wanted to play at dressing-up, and not in PVC.
She was happy though. Of course we pretended she'd been living in America and had a job on a cable channel, but in reality she was my single, soul-draining purpose. I had her and my 4,000 online friends. Having only a dial-up internet connection meant that life was expensive. That's why I had become a slave of The Colonel.
I'm not stupid - I do know the man himself never saw active service and that these days he was no more than a cartoon figurehead for the world's largest poultry serial killer. I was also fully aware that he wasn't a real colonel in the same way Dr Fox hasn't completed any medical training, and that Bernie Clifton didn't morph into an ostrich/man hybrid just for finales.
It was at that point, sobbing awkwardly and pondering my lot in life, when I noticed the dentist walk past.
On Monday: the story is continued by Lucy Porter
