You know, I first became consciously aware that numbers totally rule when I made my first million suing one of the sellers on Swap Shop. I'd agreed to purchase what was described as an as-new Kerpluk. But when I got it throught the post, it only had two marbles.
And later, in the aftermath of accusations that I had personally killed a member of the public on Live TV (we were showing VT of a furious Dave Lee Travis getting his twelfth gotcha at the time- one of our most elaborate yet!), numbers again became central to my existence.
The day I lost my job, I was walking down the street when something I had driven past in my Bentley a countless times caught my attention. The numbers on the cards in public phoneboxes throbbed with significance. Numbers taunted me with promises that a divine angel or some other angelic being could easily be conjured up at the hotel room door. And then nobbed inside. Twice if she didn't start crying.
Numerically, I added up all the numbers together in my wallet and it came to about £200, which was enough for two hours, all in. Ironically, the only thing I hadn't lost that day was the big fresh dollop of Noel's Creamy Man Milk churning in my balls. (And my iconic beard, of course!)
I shakily dialed the number- with my finger. Which is Itself a freaking digit. Which is Latin for 'finger'. And then I gave out yet another number- the office Visa card details.
* * Next- more fun about numbers * *
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment