Sunday, January 20, 2008
Ham Shanks Diary – Revenge is sweet
You may have heard me rant in the past on the subject of religion ‘No Ham; Just leave it, you’ve done that chestnut a million times’ I hear you moan in despair. Hold yer horses and wind yer necks in cos this time I’m not actually having a pop, it’s even more surprising; I’m having a rethink! ‘Look Ham we know you hate rel- … What!’
Don’t panic though I’ve not become a born again or a happy clappy. However I’ve begun to think there might be something in this Karma malarkey. I was idly surfing the t’interweb and stumbled on a reference to Karma, quite interesting after I got over my initial disappointment that it wasn’t an article on Culture Club and a throwback to my youth; 1983 what a year. I was 15 years old and had hair on top of heid. I’d discovered drink, girls and cigarettes. All illegal for a 15 year old, although to be fair I could only get two out of three …. Ok one of the three …. Ok none of the three; In fact I hated being a teenager so let’s just leave it OK!
Aaaanyway moving swiftly back to Karma: The basic principle is ‘do bad things and bad things will happen to you, do good things and good things will happen to you’ Seems fair enough I think you’ll agree. However further reading revealed that in fact it’s the intention behind the action rather than the outward appearance of the action itself that determines the effect ‘What the f*ck are you talking about Ham?’
Ok here’s an example: If you were spending your weekends working for the Sally Army handing out soup to the poor and/or needy, helping the less fortunate than yourself. That would appear like an altruistic act, people would think you were a nice person, a caring individual. It would be reasonable to expect given the stated ‘rules’ of Karma that good things may happen to you in return.
If however you’d been gobbing in the soup and stirring it with your bell end prior to dispensing because you actually despise the stinking needy b*stards and believe they have brought it all on themselves and should just hurry up and die then you’re not creating good Karma. You’re also probably a member of the Tory party. So despite the outward appearance of good works Karma knows about the cockaleekie soup and you’ll be getting yours pal! (I may be paraphrasing here but I think you get the gist)
The idea of Karma is rooted in the Indian religions of Hinduism and Buddhism. Even though I’m not a follower (although I do like a good curry) recent events have led me to consider the possibility that Karma might actually exist. Cue wibbly wobbly special effects and flashback music……
Date: Oct 2007 Location: Way up North; possibly Never Never land
‘Oh aye she’s a great wee runner’, ‘Really?’, ‘Aye it’s in great nick and it’ll do seventy five to the gallon’ I eyed the car suspiciously, giving the back tyre a sharp kick before jumping back quickly. The rear wheel didn’t fall off, perhaps it really was ok. ‘And you’ll swap it for my old one?’ I enquired again ‘aye nae bother’, ‘it’s out of it’s m.o.t mind’ I prompted ‘not a problem’ I slid myself into the drivers seat ‘it’s nae very comfy though’, ‘No it’s supposed to be like that, it’s got a special seat that helps to realign your vertebrae as you drive’, ‘shouldn’t I be able to feel my legs?’, ‘don’t worry they’ll be fine when your spine has fused into the correct shape’, ‘Jings Neilly, cheers min, you’re a diamond brother’ …
Date: Jan 2008 Location: The Dark side of the moon (painkillers may be effecting me now)
The ‘Crippleomatic’ is parked outside my house. I’ve long since given up trying to wedge myself into the drivers’ seat, not that I can drive the vehicle anyway since the exhaust systems so corroded it now sounds like a jet fighter when it starts up. It would seem that sticky tape and bogies are a poor substitute for stainless steel and workmanship. Surveying the vehicle from the comfort of my mobility scooter I notice the thin layer of airfix paint which briefly covered the deep scratches down the drivers’ side door has finally given way to a patina of orange rust. It might just be the light but I’m sure the shape resembles a clenched fist with extended middle finger.
I’m waiting for my brother to arrive with a replacement vehicle. Give him his due; even though he was adamant there was nothing wrong with it he is personally delivering a replacement all the way from
A squeal of tyres and a plume of diesel smoke herald the arrival of the boy blunder ‘Alright Davros’ he shouts cheerily whilst exiting the vehicle. Once the smoke settles, I can see my new transport for the first time ‘whadya think’ he enquires with misplaced glee ‘That’s my old car’ I reply in icy tones ‘yes’, ‘the mot failure that wouldn’t start’ I prompt through gritted teeth ‘uhuu’, ‘are you f*cking mental?’, ‘Woah woah woah, it’s mot’d, it’s taxed and it’s running bonny now’, ‘that’s what you said about the Iron Maiden across there!’, ‘ach yer just overreacting ye big jessy’, ‘now gies a hand with this stuff’
Gliding over to the car I noticed it was jammed full of boxes. It would appear his mercy dash was not quite as altruistic as it first seemed ‘so still haven’t got an Ikea in
Twenty minutes later and it’s all crammed into the Crippleomatic along with my brother Neily who is wedged into the driving seat like an elephant in a phone box ‘don’t gnnff know what youaaarggghhh talking about this is a really comfysweetjeeesus car’, ‘why’s yer face twitching then?’, ‘it always does that when I’m haaaargghppy’, ‘fair enough’, ‘ye should probably know that it’s not running very we-‘, ‘look this car runs sweet as a nuu-ooohaaagnnff-t’, ‘aye bu-‘ he glared at me and slammed the drivers door shut ‘this is a peach of a caaarrghaarrghaaarrghr’ ignoring any further protests he started up the car, a look of agony shot across his face the second he did ‘aye the clutch pedal does fly up when you start it‘, ‘Goodby-aaaaaarghyafuuucker!’
I waved him off as the car lurched away from the kerb, leaving the majority of the exhaust system behind and a disturbingly large pool of oil ‘Needs some fuel’ I shouted after him ‘and the back tyre could do with air’ I bellowed above the noise of the thundering exhaust note. Watching him kangaroo down the street I felt what I can only assume was a Karmic tingle shivering through my body
‘Oh jings I can stand up straight’ I mumbled as the excruciating pain which had been racking my body seemed to miraculously disappear, my brother was out of sight now and feeling was definitely returning to my legs. The faint sounds of a police siren could be heard it the distance as I skipped back to my front door; clicking my heels as I entered.
In the words of that great philosopher Nelson Muntz’ ‘Haa Haaaaa’
