I nearly died on Wednesday

No joke. I was literally HALF A SECOND from death. Death by Land Rover. I could have been no more, just a manly streak of red on the road. My fragile bones could have been crushed to powder and my teeth expelled like tiny bullets across the road to pierce the face of anybody foolish enough to not leap in front of the car and save my life. I could have been permanently, and excitingly, brain damaged, like that guy in Memento, or Spider-Man 2. I could have been expunged, put down, my fragile flame snuffed, iced, put on a slab, exterminated, a victim of a misadventure, coronised, pickled, death-visitated, 409'd, skeletalised, buried, minced, turned into a bag of meat, wiped off the mortail coil. If it were not for that half second, I would probably be six feet underground right now, happily mouldering in a nice warm coffin, without a care in the world, planning my return from the afterlife and vengeange on the human world.

Here's how it happened: Basically, I was cycling down the road, listening to The Divine Comedy on my iPoditorium, happy as Larry Flynt in a metal legs store, when I came to a busy t-junction. "Hmm", I thought to myself "My highway code says that it's advisable that I stop before crossing busy junctions, and to always signal". I therefore sped up and cycled directly into the road without looking either way or stopping. And suddenly out of NOWHERE comes this ugly cunt in the world's fastest Land Rover, heading directly for my under-guarded left side. He locked eyes with me. I locked eyes with him. I was basically, micro-seconds from death (and as my mother pointed out, "When you get hit by a Land Rover, it hits you here *Motions at chest area* and you DIE!"... thanks Mum), when I stood up on the pedals and JUST avoided the bumper. I then kind of stopped my bike on the pavement and scratched my head in a confused manner.
The Land Rover. Did it stop? No. Did it in any way slow down? Other than a half hearted attempt at braking, no. In fact, I very much doubt that it was a real Land Rover. Far more likely, it was in fact a DEATH ROVER. Driven by the Grim Reaper in his quest to steal as many innocent souls as possible (even in off-road and wet areas), the DEATH ROVER scours the streets of London and runs over uncaring on bikes. THEN STEALS THEIR SOULS. DAMN YOU, DEATH ROVER. DAMN YOU. THE DEVIL DAMN THEE BLACK, THOU CREAM FACED LOON. He failed to kill me this time. I was lucky. But will he strike again? I didn't know. Because of this, I continued to cycle everywhere, with my cycle helmet safely stored in my locker. Yes, that's me, PLAYING WITH DEATH. Come and get me, Grim Reaper, you stupid twat. I listen to Linkin Park: you'll need something special to capture my rebellious soul.

Whats that you say? You can't imagine the situation as to my near death? Oh wait, look, I made a little map of what the situation was. That's lucky:



I feel that I captured the occasion perfectly. But of course in the real thing there were more spectators and possibly more swearing. And the Death Ranger was much bigger and more covered in spikes/blood. My hair is also more yellow than that. But anyway. So I nearly died. This is a big moment in one's life, and you'd expect something exiting to occur, mentally at least. The following things FAILED to happen:

• My entire life flashed before my eyes.


• I repented all my past mistakes and took Jebus into my heart.


• I gained a sudden, unique viewpoint on life.


• I made a resolution saying that if I were to survive, I'd only be sweet and kind to everyone.


• I regretted all the mean things that I'd said to everyone, including the fat cunt who was playing Carmen in the school's production (In fact, watching that piece of shit was the only thing I regretted).


• I saw a hooded skeletal figure chasing me down with a mad cackle.


• I wished that I was wearing some sort of safety gear. I mean, even shinpads might have been useful.


• I heard a choir of angels.

So basically, all that my near death experience showed me was that there is no God. Nice. In fact, the only thing that even popped into my head was that I didn't really want to die listening to The Divine Comedy. I mean, Come Home Billy Bird is a nice song and all, but is it the last thing you want to hear as your congealing brains slop out of the bitumin-induced hole in your skull? Our survey says: NO.
And anyway, I'd already planned out my death. It'll be when I'm well into my twenties, driving a sports car, off some sort of cliff. And then landing on a barge. A barge populated by James Blunt, Jason Mraz, Green Day, Muse, the Goo Goo Dolls, and anybody who has ever been on Pop Idol. Oh yeah, and my sports car will belong to Ben Affleck. And he'll be stapled to the boot. Along with, like, two thousand pounds of C4 explosive. So when the car hits the barge, it explodes and everyone dies. Especially Jason Mraz.
I haven't quite decided what music I'll be listening to when I die. So far it's a toss up between U-Mass/Debaser/Alec Eiffel by the Pixies, or Bittersweet Symphony by the Verve, but I like to keep my options open. I mean, if I suddenly feel suicidal and the only CD that I have immediately to hand is The Best of Craig David (an oxymoron if ever I heard one) and my iPoditorium is not charged then, hey, I guess I'll go down listening to Seven Days. But I'll be forced to drive to Craig's house and run over his stupid long face with the car, just to punish him for screwing up my death.

Oh yeah, and if they find enough bits of me for a funeral, here are a few requirements that I'm gonna make right here and now:

I want the entire service to rhyme. It's not a hard request, but I think that it'd make all the eulogies a lot more bearable.
Tapdancing. Everyone going up to the podium must tapdance up, and then tapdance down again. The orchestra will play jaunty tapdancing music while the tapdancing is taking place. Did I mention that there will be an orchestra? There'll be a full size orchestra. Except without the french horn section. I think that everyone agrees that french horns will never have a decent place in music. And when they put me in the grave, I want them to play that 'wah wah wah waaaaaaaaah' sound from old black and white comic movies. That never gets old.
You know those women in those films wearing the red dresses who lie on top of pianos and sing while the pianist plays away? Yeah? Well I want one of those. Except she'll be singing on top of my COFFIN. While it's being carried to my king-sized grave. Oh yeah, I want them to dig up like four other graves and have me buried at right angles to every other coffin. I especially want this if it involves ruining several other funerals.
I want a twenty foot high musical tombstone that plays H. Chappelle's The Gonk every time anybody walks past.
Actually, before being buried, I'd like to be burnt on top of a huge funeral pyre first, then scattered to the wind over a crowd of asthmatic babies. You can then clone me and bury me in the aforementioned way.
Posthumously, I want to donate a full sized rowing 8 to every boat club in the country. However, they all have to be called "Rowing Sucks", "Your Mum," or "Thomas has a big Penis".
There should be a few huge statues of me. Made out of GOLD.
Actually, I'd also like to be blown out of a cannon. MANNNN I wish I could die more than once, just so I get all these awesome funerals.
A huge crowd of mourners would be good too. In fact, I'll be positively disappointed if there aren't throngs of schoolgirls throwing themselves in front of my (totally pimped up) funeral hearse and leaping into my grave.
I'd also like the Pixies to play Debaser LIVE as I am placed into my grave. Well, I say grave, I actually mean PYRAMID. With big piles of all my earthly riches and several slave girls to serve me in the underworld. Also, we should get some of those Scientologists to put some sort of curse on the tomb, so if it is ever disturbed, I return from the dead and annoy the grave-robbers with my bullshit religion and lack of drugs.
Monkeys should also play some sort of part in the funeral service, I'm not quite sure how. Perhaps they could serve vodka at the wake? The wake will have big water drums filled with neat liquor, and nobody gets to leave until it has ALL been consumed.

Yeah, that's about it.

My death will be so totally kickass. That is definitely something to look foward to. Except I'll probably outlive all of you. Unless this birdflu comes along and kills off half the population. HURRAH FOR TOPICAL COMEDY.