It's been a quiet couple of days in the world of David, until now that is. I'm beginning to think I'm getting used to his ways, blocking out the worst of it by distancing myself from him. He snared me today though, good and proper. Here is my experience, in dramatic prose form;

That slightly open mouth, those whithered lips, repeatedly moistened by his reddy-pink slug of a tongue. I struggle to remember what I'm talking about as I dry heave at the sight of this tubby man licking away as his pink-tinged eyeballs stare back at me like that of the undead. He replies, but I don't hear him. I try to think of bombings, the holocaust, anything to remind me there are worse things in the world than looking at that revolting sight. He stands up to hobble off downstairs for black coffee, pausing to call back "such is life my dear boy, AHAHAHAHAHA". The laughter echoes through my soul like the death of a close friend. Haunting. Just haunting.

He certainly lightened up a sales pitch I was giving an Officer yesterday for the ITQ. Halfway through my spiel, he stands next to us downstairs and lets rip an almighty torrent of farts. An oriental soldier chuckles as he climbs the stairs. FINALLY! Confirmation that I'm not imagining it! I got so used to people just ignoring his parps that I started to think it was all in my imagination. Unable to ignore it myself, I stop mid-sentence, and turn to Dave with "you alright there?", to which he replies, "Yep, £60 it is". So rather than acknowledge the school of 'trouser frogs' getting vocal in his pants, he decided to join in our conversation.

I wasn't referring to the ITQ numb-nuts! Does it not bother you that farting on people is practically your hobby?

"Brrrrum padom-pom"
Yes! A new variation! Huzzah!

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Today's music to ignore David to is Ys by Joanna Newsom. Not because I'm listening to it, but because the track Emily is stuck in my head, where I retreat to when this place makes me think I'm going insane.