How I wish I was a hand puppet. My career would make people laugh with me, not at me. The BTO (British Trainspotters Organisation) would not stab me in the back, or bully me or pray for me resignation. If I was a cuddly hand puppet I would be begged to stay and make them all laugh. I would be adored by hundreds, maybe thousands. The queen would pay for my performance at the royal variety. Screw BTO, I could win Britain's Got Talent without doing any work. Hand puppets just have it so easy. They just lie around, doing nothing, no cares, no debts, no hatemale, no allamony cheques. No worries and no woe! Just bliss and tranquility
My dream and longing began while spotting an excellent train. Aboard was a man with a monkey hand puppet. The children were in fits of laughter and at his mercy. It was at that very moment I realised I had been reincarnated in the wrong form.
But what hand puppet to be? That is the only downfall in my fantasy. A Hippo is too big and a Buzzy Bee is too small whilst a Vampire is too scary. I need something respectable, funny and original...A giraffe! No even better, a Giraffe's head! Nothing makes children laugh like a decapitated mammal. I'm a marketing genius. Just ask Phil, my imaginary accountant