I Fathered a Dickhead

The Perils of an Unlocked Phone

 

I'm sixty-nine years old. I have no idea what FaceBombing is - or at least I didn't until a couple of days ago. Then I started getting Facebook messages of sympathy and best wishes that my misery would not be everlasting.

Huh?

One message read, "I've been a martyr to piles for years. I feel your pain".

Huh?

For the record, despite my advanced years and erratically maintained health regime, I remain unvisited by haemorrhoids, bladder weakness, erectile dysfunction or escalating racism. Then I found the post. I'd committed the schoolboy error of leaving my phone unlocked and within reach of a complete dickhead. He'd announced to the world that I was in constant pain from a set of chalfonts like the bubbles on Titan's banana milkshake.

The above photograph, unconvincingly depicting him as a bloated, NRA metalhead, is a mere foreshadowing of my revenge, which will be unjustifiably disproportionate.