...who finds it really disturbing that my local DIY shop has a shelf of axes anyone can mess with? I picked one up and swung it around my head in the hope that someone would say something. And no one did. Very worrying...
The Axe-man Cometh
I’m telling you, there’s no reason why. It was just another day, that’s all. I woke up, got up, had my breakfast. What? Oh, all right; bacon butties. I always have bacon butties on a Saturday. Mops up the ale from the night before, if you see what I mean. Not that I’d had much. I went down The Horse as usual, but it was boring. Tommy was in there, Tommy Halliday. Fancies himself, does Tommy. Thinks he’s the ‘Alan Sugar’ of Ormskirk, he does. He was giving it yack about some job he’s doing, but I’ve heard it all before, me. So I went back to The Windmill, had a couple, and then went home. Oh yeah, and I went home on me own, before you ask.
Anyway, where’d I get to? Oh yeah, breakfast. Well, I had my breakfast and read the paper like, then I thought I’d better nip and get them nails I need for that job I’m doing for me Mam. Yeah, I’m putting a fence up; yeah. I went down the shop and wandered round, minding my own business like, then I saw this shelf with all these axes on it. And I thought; one of them might come in handy. So I picked one up. And I gave it a little swing, just to see.
And I saw this man, this fat baldy in his trackies waddling past. He was arguing with his missus. He was all red faced and sweaty. He had a right cob on. And his head was very round, very shiny. And I wondered what it would look like. And I wondered what it would feel like, so I raised the axe and smashed his head. It went red and pink with mashed-up bone, his brains like blubber spilling over his shoulders.
Yeah, that’s why I did it; to see how it would look. It’s not my fault, it’s the shop’s. They shouldn’t put things like that out on display. It’s just asking for trouble.