It’s a good feckin’ question isn’t?
The amount of times I’ve been a twonk of gargantuan proportions over the years is, sadly, mucho plentiful.
Had I been able to work out my dose of Karma along the way I may have attempted to be a better person when I was still a know-it-all teenager.
Some would say I was just feeling my way into manhood (that made me giggle too), others would argue that I was nothing more than a mahoosive gob shite.
I’ve selected three occasions, out a fairly hefty list , where I’ve deserved Karma to give me a swift kick to the nads.
Teenage dirt bag
Considering some of the stunts I pulled as a teenager, a lesser person would have killed me.
Super blagging the poor science technician assistant in school, without a note, that my science teacher required the £2,000, 6ft skeleton for that morning’s lesson, promptly removing it from its stand the minute she was out of site, throwing it over my shoulder, climbing onto the school roof with two friends and dangling it by strings in front of classroom windows with a sign in its mouth reading “April Fools”, being just one of them.
I could have got that poor lady into major trouble and got myself killed in the process, but as long as I thought it was funny in those days, it was funny.
Thankfully Jackie (mum) found the patience that lies deep within, allowing me the luxury of still being here to tell you the tale – only JT really knows how close I am to not being here.
All knowing adolescent arsehole
I moved out of home at a young age, and to be fair whilst my mum was quietly expecting me to fall flat on my face within a month, I never looked back, paid my bills and made it work.
However, unfortunately this just served to provide me with the concrete proof I was looking for that I was always right about absolutely everything.
So right, in fact, that when my brothers squabbling had reached unbearable levels in mum’s house, I stepped in with my all knowing knowledge and invited my middle brother to come and live with me – I could solve all those problems easily, I knew something she didn’t.
My mum was pretty mortified.
What I hadn’t taken into account was just how much of a monumental tramp my brother is to live with – cleaning is not in his vocabulary.
Not four weeks after I’d caused a family row fit for a scene on Dallas, my mum was walking up my garden path just as I flung open the front door, and proceeded to put a size 9 right up my brother’s arse as I booted him over the door step, throwing every single one of his belongings after him.
I’d caused holy hell and got us all precisely nowhere, but I knew best.
I was once sat down by a good friend of mine to tell me a few things about myself.
You see, in my early twenties I was still under the impression that as long as I thought I had a valid point in my head, it was the Lord’s gospel truth and therefore law as it made its exit from my mouth.
I’ve always been a leader not a follower, which has served me well in my career on the whole, however in those days as a barman at the bottom of the hierarchy I was an extreme annoyance to the management team.
My friend, who was a duty manager at the bar in question at the time, insinuated there were issues with my personality traits.
Confused, always being right and all that, I asked why.
I was informed there had been a management meeting which, in short, discussed my powers of manipulation.
Or as he put it, “all the managers were talking about how much of a manipulative bar-stool you are!”
Naturally I was mortified and completely disagreed, he went on to explain further.
Apparently they felt if the entire management team had walked into the bar, caught me pouring myself a drink and downing it, I would be able to rally up the rest of the staff to believe I was being mistreated, picking them off one by one until I had my army of support.
I left them in peace and moved on to pastures new eventually, then something strange happened.
All of a sudden I hit 25 and I had this amazing, caring person in my life that wouldn’t intentionally upset anyone.
This patient little fecker that no matter how hard he was pushed, never cracked, and made me want to be a better person.
Looking back I was a total pain in the arse, it’s embarrassing to even think about.
But, I’ve come a long way in the last 11 years, admittedly I can still provide concrete proof I’m right even when I’m wrong, however I tend to back down and admit it these days – eventually!
And, the way I look at it, if I’ve ended up with PK, Karma couldn’t have thought I was that bad after all!
Do you believe in good and bad Karma?
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