So, last week I was enjoying some WORLD CLASS TEXTUAL BANTER with none other than Dan Cole of England. You may have heard of him. And yes, I hear what you’re shouting at your laptops right now, “James, why would you associate with the likes of him!?”, but rest assured Haskolytes because for one of the morbidly obese Dan is actually an all right human being. No brand to speak of and inside I die a little every time I have to play seven and touch his lard in the scrum but he’s alright despite all that.
The banter was flowing as I texted him to call him “Pan Cole” due to how much he eats. As expected he couldn’t deal with my RAPIER WIT and instead tried to appease me by asking me about my favourite subject – ME. I took pity on the grease-trap and indulged him. He wanted to know what my middle name was and was interested to learn that it is Welbon. After humouring him with a few more questions I ended the conversation by telling him I was bored now and had a more important use for my thumbs (giving myself mirror-thumbs-ups if you must know).
Yesterday I got a call from Dan saying he’d come across something called ‘The Welbon Conference’ and had signed me up as the guest speaker. “Pan”, I says to him, “Pan, what in the name of Me is that and why would I want to speak at it?!”. He informed me that it’s an annual get together of people with the name Welbon from across the globe and as the most famous Welbon they’d be honoured to have me speak about what the name means to me and regale them with tales about when my middle name has benefited me and the like. Pan lacks my KILLER SALES SKILLS and he’d sold the gig pretty badly to me up to that point until he spluttered the magic words through a mouthful of chips (probably), “James, think of it as a branding opportunity – the chance to announce yourself as the world’s Alpha Welbon”. I hung up the phone and quietly whispered, “Oh. Hell. Yes.”.
So I show up this morning at where this gig is on. Pan had arranged everything with the organisers so all I had to do was show up and take the stage. As befits my status I rocked up late and missed whatever dross they had on before me. Fortune had rested her heavy bosom on my face again as I had showed up just as it was my turn to speak. I took to the stage, sporting a biz-cas look – t-shirt and tie – and a USB key that I whirled into the laptop running the overhead projector.
The crowd looked to be a few hundred strong but I couldn’t spot a looker among them so I only flashed them a Grade III smile as I launched into my opening, utterly ignoring the notes left on the podium for my convenience. “Mortals – hello! You obviously know me and you’ll be happy to know that I am one of you. But better, obviously. I was asked here today to speak about my experiences of being one of us and how it has impacted on my life. The first thing I say to you is to do what I have done and embrace it! Grab it by the gonads the way that guy in New Zealand grabbed me by the gonads! Embrace it, harness it!”, then I slammed my fist into the podium and roared, “USE IT!” and you should have seen the fuckers jump. Straight up, every last one of them, that’s how much I held them spellbound. From somewhere in the crowd someone called out, “Animal!”, and I couldn’t help but grin. These people got me, they really got me – I am an animal. I AM A FUCKING BEAST!
I carried on with my speech. “Never think there aren’t others like us. There are. They’re everywhere. One time at an England training camp Johnno had us do the whole boot-camp thing at Sandhurst. There I met a Rupert who was one of us, he was called Nigel or St. John or something, I don’t care, and he was telling me that we have a long history as warriors. I mean, obviously, just look at me for fuck sake. But he meant as soldiers, like himself.”
This is how a gentleman would go to war.
At this stage I hit play on the laptop with the USB and the sound of artillery blasted through the speakers. The place went mad, they jumped sky-high again, mouths agape. They loved that shit. When I stopped the sound effects one old Scottish dear down the back shouted up, “You’re a monster!”. Even through her cataracts she could see that I was a monster, A SPECIMEN, a thing forged of the Gods, and just for her I made my pecs dance through my business t-shirt. So impressed was the old dear that she burst into tears and sat back down. Now why the fuck can’t the opposition ever respond correctly like that, I ask you?! I made a mental note to ask her afterwards if she had a grand daughter.
I normally don’t dip my wick that far north, you understand, but there wasn’t many fillies here and any sort in a storm, or something.
As usual my dancing pecs took over and I felt the pump come on. I decided I might as well give the old bird a show and moved aside from the podium and started doing push-ups. After a few dozen I got so fired up I jumped up and hurled the table the other speakers were sitting at off the stage and into the audience as I screamed, “WELBONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!”. After plenty of deep breaths I shackled my INNER BEAST and returned to the podium for my well-deserved standing ovation for having DOMINATED the shit out of the speech. As I gazed out at the crowd expectantly the only sound was that of the rozzers coming in the back of the auditorium. Puzzled by this turn of events my eye caught the notes left on the podium that I had ignored earlier. It read:
The Wellbeing Conference – Lifestyle And Meditation Tips On How To Live A Normal Life With Extreme Chronic Nervous Disposition
Cole, you colossal, fat, bastard …As told to CrashSharkKoctopuss