If This Gets Retweeted by Julia Roberts I will give £1,000,000 to Charity.


The other day I had a record number of views on this thing for a single day. It was 398. “That’s nearly 400!” you’re thinking you yourselves, “That’s not so bad!” You’re right. that is nearly 400. Well done. But you’re also wrong. It is bad. Do you have any idea how big my ego became and how hard the fall back to reality was?

I only got this many hits as Tom Green re-tweeted the link. Now I have to log in to my WordPress and expect the usual 10-70 hits a day. What must I do? What must I do to maintain nearly 400 views a day? Get celebrities to constantly re-tweet my links? This is surely asking a bit much to ask of them. I already have Jay-Z coming round to cook me breakfast and Burt Reynolds to pick up my dry-cleaning. And I’m not even sure if Burt Reynolds is still alive. then what do I do! But then I got thinking. Maybe it wasn’t the fact Tom Green re-tweeted it. Maybe it was the content. Maybe it spread by word of mouth about just how fucking funny the content was. Long-shot, I know, but plausible none-the-less. Then I realized there WAS a way I could maintain that many views a day. Similar content! All I have to do is simple. I must go out, get punched about a bit, then write about it so all you people can read it and then feel better about your own lives.

Obviously this isn’t something I wanted to do, so I decided to look at the figures more carefully. See what blogs got the most hits and that and then work it out from there. I did this. It seems I only get views in large numbers when I am in extreme amounts of emotional or physical pain or so bored I want to kill myself. “Wowzers!” I thought to myself. These people that enjoy reading about what’s on my mind don’t actually care about what’s on my mind. They only care that I am a broken shell of a man, sitting alone in his room, violently cry-wanking over ex-girlfriend whilst covered in cuts and bruises inflicted upon my person by other persons and eyeing up a bottle of gin and 40 painkillers thinking about just how easy it would be to end all of this.

Well it’s not happening, you fucks. Not today! Today I’m going to have a lovely time and nothing is going to go wrong and I’m going to come home and write a lovely story about how I spend the day out and did lovely things and met  a lovely girl and we all ate sherbet and skipped around the park with the squirrels and sang with the birds and cured poverty and broken-hearts the world around and that we are going to spend the rest of our days living in a rainbow and eating ice-cream. And NONE of you will read it. Then you’ll see.

You fucking perverts.

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