Well I'll be fucked.

Hello. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but as some of you might have heard, the Ignition podcast this week has been delayed and, at the very worse canceled. This is down to many factors that are out of control: such as Matt being a complete twonk. Why is he a twonk? Well, no one can be sure. What we can be sure about is it is better to unjustly blame somebody for everything rather than admit we have a messed up situation.

Anyway, as we are moving up in our own world I thought it be best not to leave you high and dry with nothing to chew on for another week. It’s by that reasoning I sit in front of you today filling your brains with the delicious whipped cream that is my voice.

As any self-indulgent never-had-any-worries Brit will tell you these days, I’m getting fat. A fact that is most certainly not growing to my comfort. After realising my Dad is eying me up as a replacement for his worn out Pirelli, I have decided that something must be done about it.

I have resolutely decided some time ago, however, that exercise is about as boring as listening to my cousin’s feeble attempts to speak. So, with every problem comes a solution and I realised that, while my imbecilic one-year-old blood relative tries to gabble out, “mummy”, so badly I wish it was a summoning incantation for an Egyptian plague, I tend to resort to daydreaming.

So it was all just a matter of trying to figure out what can combine exercise with my love of ignoring people. The idea was obvious; the idea was even glorious; the idea was walking: by far the best and most introverted way to lose weight there possibly is.

So I set a route around some pretty lovely, a term I use loosely, urban areas around where I live and went to it. No iPods; no people; just me and my bordering on the schizophrenic fantasies. And for a time, this was just bliss.

What I didn’t factor into my equation is that many other, equally disturbed, people have also taken this approach. There are even some normal, most possibly extroverted, people being selfish and NOT driving. I mean it honestly makes me wonder what kind of world we are in where people will not spitefully destroy the planet just to avoid social interaction with you.

Anyway, these are things I can’t really help. I may have to meet people as I pass their way and just occasionally I can spitefully cross the road just so the awkward nod of acknowledgement does not have to happen. A particular facet of this interaction does annoy me a little-bit more than any other random interaction.

Putting it bluntly, meeting old people in the street is worse than dying. You instantly know they are judging you and if you smile at them, you’re automatically a paedo’. I don’t know how that works but by god that’s how it feels. And finally, if you’re on the verge of dying, please do not come out and spoil my pleasant evening. I don’t know whether to neglect your frailty by not offering you help or to neglect your dignity by offering you an over-enthusiastic piggy back.

It’s because of this sort of incredibly awkward interaction I pray in my head when I see someone of the older generation approaching, “Please, dear God, have a massive heart attack”. However, it’s to my displeasure to realise shortly after this cry of desperation that God probably doesn’t kill people over social awkwardness; which also dispels the myths of his parents being English and American.

Anyway, I draw on and I’m sure you don’t want me taking up more of your precious time looking at things on the internet. Thank you for not losing the will to live. Not you, granny.

Bitchen wheels! No, I meant bitch'n'wheels.