Sponsored Walk

I was thinking about doing a charity walk to Brighton and back. Then it occurred to me that it might be a bit too ambitious. I’m not the fittest person around, what with all the laying about in bed and constant boozing. Not to mention the chips, cakes, kebabs, marijuana, fizzy pop by the bucketful and my intravenous coffee intake. A little too much self abuse leaves the old legs a bit wobbly, too. That doesn't help when you're clinically obese and have twenty stone of lard to cart about. 

 

Anyway, I decided a walk across all the Thames’ bridges in London might be a bit more manageable. Decision made, I had another beer, put a couple of pasties and a tray of chips in the oven, smoked a fat joint and set about planning the route. Cross over bridge, walk along, cross back, walk along, cross over next bridge ... I’d almost plotted very nearly five bridges in my A to Z - three actually - when I got to thinking about how tiring it would be. Not only that, but there was the wear and tear on my shoes to consider and being London, there would always be the chance of a light drizzle, or of it being just a bit too warm.

 

My bridge walk was starting to look like a bridge too far, especially considering the bad name I would end up with for taking a cut from the sponsorship proceeds to cover necessary expenditure on lager, burgers and sweets; plus the shoe wear and tear thing, of course. It’s not as though I can afford to sue anyone for defamation of character, so they could call me all the thieving lowlife scumbags under the sun and get away with it.

 

I suppose I could have done the walk and just kept all the money raised. Selflessly walking over all those bridges would be damned hard work, after all (particularly if it did turn out to be just a bit too warm) and surely deserved some kind of reward? It’s not as if I actually know any skint cripples who need the dosh. They all get more benefits than I do anyway and they don’t even pay rent in those homes.

 

If I did go down the route of trousering the cash, I realise I would have to keep quiet about pocketing it, but figure I could avoid possible prosecution by saying that had been the plan all along in really tiny small print at the bottom of the sponsorship form. You know, a bit like the sort insurance companies use to get out of ever honouring any claims. It’s OK for them to take the piss out of their customers, but if I helped myself to a few measly pounds meant for less fortunate bib-dribblers, suddenly I’d be the bad guy! Not sure if keeping the cash could be described as an act of God, though. That might be pushing my luck a bit.

 

I haven’t even got many friends, so probably couldn’t raise more than about thirty quid and that wouldn’t exactly give sight to the blind, or tongues to those talking-difficulties types who grunt and wave their hands about a lot. Might be just as well to give the idea up as a bad job. My shoes have already got holes in them anyway and all that walking would only make them worse.

 

There's that possible light drizzle to take into account as well. If that didn’t hold off, I bet I would even be condemned for buying an umbrella, or for sitting in the pub all day drinking the sponsorship money away until it stopped spitting outside. These charity donors are always tight like that. Don’t see them doing a bridge walk when it’s drizzling, or a bit too warm. Oh no, all too happy to leave that to genuinely concerned people like me. Hypocrites. 

 

Sod it. I think I’ll smoke another joint and eat some toffee instead. Don’t suppose any of you fancy sponsoring a bacon-sandwich-athon? No?

 

Sleepathon?