As another utterly empty bank holiday recedes into the black, black past, I am reminded that, while I eek out the final pennies of my fortune and ebb away my days in aching luxury, the rest of you people actually value this sort of thing: an extra day off from your pitiful jobs.
While it seems rather pathetic to celebrities like me - Jeremy Kyle, Ian Huntley, Jade Goody, etc. - that you plan your lives around getting a single day off from some meaningless, soul-crushing employment, I nevertheless thought I would use the bank holiday to compensate for your lack of imagination and do something genuinely worthwhile, something philanthropic to help the community. So as my 'good deed' for the year I hired a projector and shone the light of my life's work onto the council flats down the road - every film I have ever been in, back to back and totally free, for a truly special day the local papers were calling 'GaylordFest'. I drank litre upon litre upon litre of rankly-warm vermouth, signed autographs and posed for photographs (I I insisted that my cock could not be visible in any of them), and played out every second of my fabulous career for interested neighbours and community figureheads – some of whom, like the bent Mayor, probably knew they were in the midst of a movie legend (hence their fawning insistence that they surround me with police officers).
The day was only marred by a full-scale riot between the local Cypriot community (sparked, I fear, by the scene in Last House on the Left where I smack a Greek woman hard in the mouth), but after a few knifings it soon settled down and the heady, celebratory, carnivalesque atmosphere of GaylordFest was restored. I even had a little drag on a joint that a hippy offered me - which, ironically, induced such blind rage within me that I had to be restrained from badly harming myself and others. So now you are back at work, reminisce on the extra day of domestic violence, armchair racism and trips to the seaside with your mewling families that the bank holiday allowed, and ask yourself whether you did something that had such a positive impact on the community.
I suspect the answer is no.
While it seems rather pathetic to celebrities like me - Jeremy Kyle, Ian Huntley, Jade Goody, etc. - that you plan your lives around getting a single day off from some meaningless, soul-crushing employment, I nevertheless thought I would use the bank holiday to compensate for your lack of imagination and do something genuinely worthwhile, something philanthropic to help the community. So as my 'good deed' for the year I hired a projector and shone the light of my life's work onto the council flats down the road - every film I have ever been in, back to back and totally free, for a truly special day the local papers were calling 'GaylordFest'. I drank litre upon litre upon litre of rankly-warm vermouth, signed autographs and posed for photographs (I I insisted that my cock could not be visible in any of them), and played out every second of my fabulous career for interested neighbours and community figureheads – some of whom, like the bent Mayor, probably knew they were in the midst of a movie legend (hence their fawning insistence that they surround me with police officers).
The day was only marred by a full-scale riot between the local Cypriot community (sparked, I fear, by the scene in Last House on the Left where I smack a Greek woman hard in the mouth), but after a few knifings it soon settled down and the heady, celebratory, carnivalesque atmosphere of GaylordFest was restored. I even had a little drag on a joint that a hippy offered me - which, ironically, induced such blind rage within me that I had to be restrained from badly harming myself and others. So now you are back at work, reminisce on the extra day of domestic violence, armchair racism and trips to the seaside with your mewling families that the bank holiday allowed, and ask yourself whether you did something that had such a positive impact on the community.
I suspect the answer is no.
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