Why Do I Say These Things? by Jonathan Ross

Author:Jonathan Ross
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Performing Arts, Entertainers, Entertainment & Performing Arts, Disc Jockeys, Biography & Autobiography, Radio, Television Personalities, General
ISBN: 9780553813494
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2008-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

There’s always Rambo

So far, I’ve been pretty lucky with the whole inevitable getting-old thing. Still all my own hair, more or less all my own teeth, and aside from a minor injury involving a Frisbee that means I will always see small floating black objects in my right eye, no major accidents to bitch about. My hair hasn’t even started to grey yet, aside from a rogue patch on the lower left quadrant of my chin when I grow my summer beard. My left, your right, in case you ever want to verify. I haven’t checked my pubes recently so I can’t comment on them, but I think they’re hanging on in there as well. Certainly they’re not falling out, and there’s no grey. Do people go bald down there? I suppose if they did they’d keep quiet about it. Maybe there’s a special room at the men’s hair-transplant clinic where you can go and have some plugs inserted downstairs as well.

I am also lucky – thrilled, in fact – to have got this far in life without ever injuring another human being too badly, either emotionally or physically. I did manage to get both my younger brothers knocked over once, and they both had to go to hospital, but they got to come home afterwards, and what’s a broken collarbone among brothers?

Mum made me promise that if I was out alone with the younger boys, without an older person to keep an eye on us, I was never to try to cross the high street with them. But surely she knew it was an impossible promise to keep? After all, the fish-and-chip shop was on the other side of the high street, and if you timed it right and went to the chippie after the lunchtime rush they’d normally be happy to give polite young boys a free bag of ‘crackling’ – our name for the little bits of batter and tiny, overcooked pieces of potato that gathered at the bottom of the big silver trough they scooped the chips out of. They were especially prone to giving these freebies out to young boys who happened to have even younger, cuter boys in tow, and so, despite my promise, I fairly regularly forced the younger brothers to make the journey.

Nothing ever went wrong when we took the zebra crossing, but that was a good hundred feet away from the chip shop, and on that particular day I suppose I just couldn’t be bothered, so we waited for a gap in the traffic and ran over together. No problems getting there. But once we’d got our bags of crackling I tried a new road-crossing method, one that did away with all that tiresome looking-both-ways-for-oncoming-traffic stuff. I steered us towards a reasonable-sized gap between parked cars and told the boys we’d run over on a count of three. With a mouth full of crackling, and not bothering to check if anyone was driving towards us, I counted, and then shouted ‘NOW!’ Trusting and fearless, they both ran out into the path of an oncoming Ford Anglia.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.