Harold Bishop. He did a bunch of stuff. And this is what it was

the day was long, and harold was bored

harold bishop's antics

one day, a sunday i believe, mr harold bishop wandered aimlessy through ramsey street.
bored with his life, his fat arse belly, his stupid glasses, his paedophilic looks, his minging wife, his shitty soap opera, and everything else you could care to mention about him. which to be fair wouldn't be much.

although you might give him some grief about his dress sense. which wasn't very good. at all. it sort of goes back to the dodgy paedophile look about him, and those sodding glasses.

ah well. so what happened next could never have been foretold.

not even by mystic meg, holder of all futures and truths.

well, she tried. never been right yet, but don't let that discount her because one day she'll be right.

and then you'll be sorry.

so what happened next? erm. oh yes, i was teeling you that.

first of all, he took off his glasses and painted his face brown.

then he grew a large beard and had it trimmed into something slightly more stylish. hum.

and then it was dyed black for that natural look. or not.

but anything was better than that sort of old man's brown that he had paraded for the last 2 millenia.

one day while he was munching down on a large family pizza, 2 kentucky fried chicken buckets, four large milkshakes, a portion of spaghetti bolognese, seven burger king meals, 2 happy meals, one serving of chocolate angel delight and some rhubarb crumble.

it struck him.

it was so obvious it was almost untrue. but it was true.

yes, harold bishop was a fat, minging, old, sweaty fat bastard.

and he knew this needed to be changed.

quickly.

the only problem being that he'd put on several stone, painted himself brown, grown a beard, and trimmed it into something remotely stylish.

hmmm.

as a bizarre coincidence, he looked somewhat like barry white.

this enthused harold to begin a new career.

as barry white was dead, should mr bishop be able to learn to sing plus rapido, he could easily adopt barry's life, his wife, and his children.

all he had to do was learn how to sing.

so he visited his fairy godmother who cast a spell which deepened his voice to the substandards of barry white.

and amazingly enough, he sounded just like the late mr white, and looked like him.

it was almost to precise to have ben real. had i not imagined this whole story, it would have still been hard to believe.

in fact near on impossible. but it did happen. no really. it did. well. ok. it didn't.

but i did have you going. what happened next was just too amazing to put on paper, so i haven't.

neither have i typed it up on here. heheh. but it is amazing. so i changed the ending.

because the ending to this story is too completely amazing to have on here.

after many years of successful barry whiting around, harold was extremely bored.

he decided a career move was in order. he thought long and hard.

very long and very hard.

so hard that he nearly burst blood vessels. and blood ships. and blood people come to that.

the ones that lived deep down inside his soul. that reaped oxygen to sell at outrageous prices to the rest of his body.

life was hard for oxygen inside harold bishop / barry white.

for all oxygen was held in slavery for the rest of their lives once within range of his enormous lung capacity.

it was like a tractor beam, sucking them into an eternal blackness of slavery and really nasty smelly armpit moisture.

after his long thoughts, harold decided he could only go back to what he knew.

he had failed as a pimp.

he had failed as a whore.

he had failed as a harold bishop.

he had become so tediously bored with life as barry that he needed a change.

it was time to steal someone whose life was worth having. hmmmmm. he pondered for a while over this.

on the morning of the ninetieth day, he arose from his seat, packed his bags, washed off the brown paint, shaved his beard, bought a wrinkle making machine, cut off one of his legs and replaced it with something a little more prosthetic, bought a car, put a taxi sign on it, drove to manchester, married ivy tilsley, and drove his car into a canal.

and all was well.

in fact, all was don brennan.

and don brennan he was.