I, Scott Andrews, liver of 31 earth circles have never read a self-help book. Furthermore my self is entirely unhelped.
Recently I went to see the doctor about it. I said ‘doctor I don’t what know to do, my self is entirely unhelped.’ He looked at me sadly and shook his head. After about a minute he spoke – ‘Mr Andrews you clearly need to unleash the inner you’.
There was only one thing holding me back. Deep down, I knew that I had absolutely no idea how to unleash my inner me. I headed straight to my local book shop to be confronted my an enormous shelf full of titles such as ‘How to Win Friends & Influence People’, ‘Awaken the Giant Within’, ‘How to Write a Best-Selling Self-Help Book’, ‘Humped Me, Dumped Me’, ‘How to Lose Weight in Only 7 Shits’ and ‘How to Stop Wanking off Tramps’. Unfortunately for me they didn’t have a book entitled ‘Unleash the Inner You’. In my time of great need, self-help books had failed me. It was down to me to help my self.
There is only one place people go nowadays when they are in need of help, to the electronic superhighway. I went home and switched on my computer. And then I asked the Goddess of knowledge in the 21st century, Google, ‘how does one go about unleashing one’s inner self ?’ She didn’t let me down, the joyous gatekeeper of all things wise. According to her, the only way to unleash the inner me is to listen to it.
For the last three days I have sat in my underpants waiting for my inner me to speak. I now suspect that my inner me is actually a Buddhist monk that has taken a vow of silence.
I have started to worry that I don’t have an inner me as my self has been entirely unhelped for so long. Or maybe my inner me and my outer me have fallen out. The trouble is that I am certain that there is no way to release my inner wildebeest until they get back on speaking terms. Perhaps I could persuade one of them to apologise?
If this experience has taught me anything at all, it’s the fact that people with inner and outer me’s are mental. It’s yet another example of how fucked up our world is. A hundred years ago people who listened to the voices in their heads were called lunatics. Nowadays they are merely unleashing their inner selves. And yet no one out there seems to care about the plight of these inner selves. It’s as if no one has realised that the reason they are called inner is because they belong on the inside, much the same as a sea-horse belongs in the sea, and a piss head belongs in a pool of his own piss. There is nothing left for me to do, I’m off to email Bono.