Diary of a Toast Eater

My lack of toast machine had made me impatient and slightly frustrated. I didn't know what to do with myself, although my dole had come through so I could now spend it on anything.

I considered using it to buy myself some heroin, but the prospect of handling money around someone so black scared me somewhat. I realised that maybe now was the time to buy my toast making toast cooker.

So I went to Argos, and I looked through the catalogue. After finding a very nice, shiny toast making toast maker, I wrote down its number and went to the front desk. "One toast making machine", I asked the woman. "Sorry love," she belched, "We 'ave nout left."

I was disgruntled and disshevelled, although I don't think i've ever been gruntled and/or shevelled. My toast making had once again been thwarted, and my emotion was: sad.

So I got the bus back home, and tried to hang myself. I didn't have any belts, however, so I just watched Jeremy Kyle and masturbated.