What Would Paul Mckenna Do?

"Cupboardy"

"Cupboardy"

 

Firstly, massive apologies for the lack of recent updates, I’ve been right poorly in the chesticles and have not had the strength or willing to write anything bigger than 140 chars, via my phone, whilst flopping around on the couch coughing until I turn purple and more than a little bit of wee leaks out. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, we all piss ourselves when we have a chest infection. Don’t we?

Right, then.

And I don’t mean it leaks out of my mouth either, before the anally retentive come amongst us questioning my sentence structure. I am still ill, mkay? Just be grateful you’re getting anything.

Munchkin made me a card earlier, which she had painstakingly written inside “Hope you get better”. Me too. I don’t fancy the alternatives much.

Paul McKenna can’t make me better. Only the baby Jeebus could perform that sort of miracle. He would lay his hands on my fevered chest, and say “Rise, from your couch of unwellness, my child, and you shall breathe without restriction once more”. Then I would leap up feeling stronger than Mr Strong at the World’s Strongest Mr Man competition, sing The Mikado without stopping for breath, pull a lorry 400 yards with barrels strapped to my feet and the world would gasp with amazement.

He can’t make me thin, either. (I’m back to Paul Mckenna again by the way, I’m sure the baby Jeebus could “Let me apply the Dyson of Divinity to your rampant midriff, my child, and you shall wobble no longer”.)

I know he can’t make me thin, because I tried to let him. He’s also failed to make me rich, failed to make me give up smoking and failed to make me think he’s a superhero.

If he had brought out a book that was entitled “I Can Make You Wish You Were Never Born”, then we might have been getting somewhere.

Now, to say you can make someone do something, well, that’s quite a claim. It also takes the responsibility away from the person who is endeavouring to journey down the path of self-improvement. (Did I mention there’s a new Argos opening within walking distance of my house? The Laminated Book Of Dreams ON MY DOORSTEP!)

If he had for example, entitled the book “I can make you empower yourself to a level where you can control your eating disorders and not shovel 15 Galaxy Ripples in your face by the day” – then that would at least give some responsibility for self care and self improvement to the self who wanted to do it in the first place. But no, he takes ALL the credit. “I DID IT! ME! YOU JUST DID WHAT I TOLD YOU TO DO! ITS MY GLORY, NOT YOURS!!!”

Which kind of spoils the results a bit, should they prove to be successful. “Oh great, I lost 17 stone, THANKS BE TO PAUL MCKENNA!”

He possibly wields more power than Jeremy Kyle, Uri Gellar and The Great Suprendo COMBINED! (That would make a marvellous photoshoppertunity – I must create that spoonbending golfball licking usedtobonevictoriawooding monster…)

Screw Scientology, let’s all join the cunt cult of McKenna. We can get a big house, turn it into a commune, get dirt under our toenails, grow beards, screw everyone and meet after the evening meal to share and ruminate upon the various Tomes Of McKenna. Then we can take hallucinogenics, and our Master will come amongst us, bind us hand and foot, and describe in glorious technicolour what a Galaxy Ripple looks like all covered in VOMIT POO AND CAT HAIR. We will be thin in no time, and will be able to more freely go out amongst the people, and teach them the way to the Truth. We will however be a non-profit making organisation, that won’t be a problem will it, Mr McKenna? I mean, if you genuinely want to help people… Even the Jehovah’s Witnesses give out their literature for free! Not sure about the Moomins though. You have to pay through the snozz to be in their gang.

What do you mean you charge eighteen billisquillion to attend one of your seminars? But people can just get the book for £7.99 from Amazon and all good bookshops! Dontchathink you might just be OVERINFLATING IT A BIT?

Well then maybe we will just have to look elsewhere for a spiritual leader – if that’s the way you feel about it. I’d rather it be Bill Bailey anyway. He won’t force me to imagine my favourite food EVER all covered in horrid things. He will just tell me about how a  squirrel and an elf had a race and the pixie queen gave out galaxy ripples to everyone to mark the golden anniversary of yesteryore. And he’s got more hair than you. Fuck you, Mckenna. Fuck you! If I want to be thin, that’s up to me to achieve and YOU aren’t going to take all the credit! HA! Howd’ya like them apples? And cupboardy is NOT a word and I won’t look into your eyes, I will look AROUND the eyes.

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One Response to “What Would Paul Mckenna Do?”

  1. worzelgummidge Says:

    Ahem.

    It’s been too long, I need more celeb bashing.

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