PREVIOUSLY ON LOST

Coveting my flesh…
In and out, in and out, in and out…
With effortless ease…
My snake…
Pounded and pumped…
Cheryl Coles’…
Wet…
Pussy.

I was about to die. My life flashed before my eyes and in doing so I suddenly found the answer to the most important question of all; a question that has foxed me and escaped, nay, baffled mankind for years.
Reader, I need not tell you the question, but the answer is (and in this order)
Cheryl
Nadine,
Sarah,
Nicola
The other one.

I grabbed the reticulated beast around the throat squeezing the oxygen from its lungs while Doni pulled the tail end with all his mite. Being five foot nothing like all Indonesian men it was no help whatsoever: I was still sinking. This was like a tug-of-war between the entire A-Team, their van and Ronnie Corbett. Sorry; this plan was not coming together, Hannibal. As my energy drained and survival mode diminished images of my childhood, friends, lovers new and old, My Family and Robert Lindsay became entwined with religious iconography, the hooded, scythe-wielding Grim Reaper’s hand weighing down on my left shoulder and old movie posters all burned themselves onto my retinas. This isn’t what I imagined death to be like, this was more like a sped-up montage of Tom Baker regenerating into Peter Davison. The black rabbit of Inle from Watership Down, an uncle showing me his “purple trouser carrot” when I was five, more Doctor Who, The TARDIS spinning thru space-time, Billie Piper, Martha Jones, Catherine Tate. I hate Catherine Tate but at least some form of structured narrative was creeping into my dying thoughts. This preposterous internal slide-show continued while my electrochemical, physical brain asked my spiritual, metaphysical soul for answers to those unanswerable questions…
Is there a God?
Should I repent?
Do birds piss ? I’ve never seen a bird piss, I’ve never been hit by bird piss.
Why the fuck has Nintendo’s Super Mario become the universal emblem for all barbers?
What if I could have all five members of Girls Aloud at the same time?
Imagine the mess!

Although all of this had only taken a third of a second, it felt like a lifetime. If I was going to asphyxiate in boiling mud couldn’t we just get on with it? Perhaps I should do some new stand-up material to pass the time, you know, physical comedy to bridge the language barrier, after all if I was going to die standing up I might as well die performing; it couldn’t have been as bad as the last time I died on stage.

Now I don’t care what you say nor for cultural differences, children should not throw cabbages at a dying man. No matter how bad his material is. A single-engined plane buzzed overhead. At last! Rescue! Doni must have called in a favour from his mates in the air-force. Something trailed below the plane. A rope? I was going to have to be quick, quicker than quik-mud as I’d only get one shot at this. As it came closer and as my eyesight improved I could see what it was carrying. Behind the plane floated a banner reading “HAPPY RAMADAN” Happy Ramadan, my arse! I was fuckin’ dying here.

The plane flew off, I don’t know where, probably into a building and a mouldy potato hit me square on the jaw, jarring me to my senses. I still had hold of the snake… Well it was more of a slow-worm actually. I manoeuvred my left hand to hold both my iphone and the invertebrate. My free right hand snapped at its tongue and in one deft move I pulled its skin from its body, doubling it in length, eyes bulging and giving me one last fighting chance. Blup, blup, blup… the mud was up to my neck and any energy I had was gone. In the words of Jim Morrison “This is the end”

If nothing else, dying was exciting; I was moments from death yet I had never felt so alive. Beneath the surface I was getting an erection. I had the horn and it was winning the battle against the mud.
“I’ve got wood!” I thought my last words on this mortal coil would be.
“Apa?” replied Doni - Indonesian for “What?”
“I’ve got wood!” I repeated as the mud entered my mouth.
He looked blank.
“Wood!” I screamed as my iphone in its waterproof case glugged below the mud
“Apa?”
“Wood! Like Carolina uses for her furniture!” I gargled.
And with her form and visage fresh in my mind, my hands thrust through the surface as if they held Excalibur itself. Throwing the phone to one of the mesmerized kids both my hands were now above water, I summoned every last ounce of strength and lurched forward. With my new found virility I pulled myself out with my strong, muscular arms. I was almost out of the mud. With one last heave I landed on the ground at everyone’s feet and lay there panting; my dip-dops were gone, taken by the underworld but I was alive and it felt good.
“How the fuck did you do that Mister Will?” asked Doni.
“Well how am I gonna get into Carolina’s hotpants if I’m not breathing?”

We giggled like schoolboys as we walked into the sunset like two cowboys at the end of a western.

I had stared into the eyes of death and laughed in its face.

Some things are worth fighting for.

“She has a husband you know”

“I don’t care.” I said… “What’s the quickest way to Bali?”