Ludicrously OT - Being Evil

We have all thought about it at some point (hopefully, otherwise it'll once again be one of those situations where I say something and nod anxiously whilst people look awkwardly amongst themselves and simultaneously back away slowly), the immortal question, am I evil?

Whether it's sub-consciously sticking the finger to a bus driver who has the temerity to suggest that passing a "boundary" by 100 yards is an extra £2.00 (or, even better, consciously refusing to thank him when alighting... then landing on the pavement with smug satisfaction as he closes the doors looking bemused as to what has just happened), secretly thinking a mate looks sexy (seriously, stop backing away!), dreaming of sending the Prime Minister faeces of a greater standard than his policies, or simply pushing past an old lady hunched over and gasping for breath as she slowly drags her laden bags, just to catch the bus that comes every 5 minutes (who lives in Newbiggin-bloody-hall????), I think we all ponder about doing, or actually do things which makes us wonder if we are ideally suited to banking, parliament, the third reich or being a bus driver for the route between the boundaries (yes, I am deadly serious that £2.00 is just extortion)...

This is a thread which is plainly to express my latest concern about my potential evil nature. If you wish to share stories (ficticious or factual) which betray your own concerns, or if you wish to rant about evil football agents or greedy footballers, I welcome that (it'll stop the thread being closed within the hour hopefully), we're all possible Sauron's here.

Anyway, my story. My father and brother were out at the supermarket, so I decided upon a quick workout. Nothing evil so far (though my father would disagree and start rambling about the new price of swedish meatballs, and Arnold Schwarzenegger might make tearful reference to his shrunken genitals... But I don't use steroids, or eat meatballs (I get the innuendo), so let's just say nothing evil so far). I was doing a few tricep dips, when there, scuttling towards my toe was a woodlouse (if my girlfriend ever happens to read this, we've lost her with mention of this, so it's all good and she may never know of my ability to destroy middle-earth). Being a brave, bug fighting warrior, I did not squish the woodlouse, but took pity on the creature (though it saw me doing a workout, so perhaps the feeling was mutual). Scooping it up in a drinking-glass, I headed towards the nearest window. Then it struck me, a simple question, do woodlice swim? I had never dared to imagine, mostly because my meetings with woodlice are usually concluded with an uneventful but well-timed blow of my shoe. Not today, however, I was determined not to be evil, to be a caring human, perhaps one day peace envoy to the woodlice species... This was not to last, however. The moment the question burst into my conscious, a creepy grin slid across my face and I scurried into the kitchen.

"This is for science!" I told myself, though a part of me knew googling the answer would take around 0.000002277336464 seconds. So I turned to the taps, "hot or cold?", I wondered. If I was truly being scientific, and not evil, I would need to get this right. Would putting it in cold water freeze the poor chap? Maybe it's blood is cold? Would it treat the hot-tap water as the heated jacuzzi I was fondly imagining? I plumbed for hot, as this definitely looked like the kind of louse that would be mixing with the louse-women in the tub (though if they're anything like Carrol McGiffin he would perhaps prefer my shoe!), if woodlice could indeed survive there.

Pouring in the hot water, the little guy flipped over and I feared the worst. "Oh **** oh ****, I'm going to respawn as Glenn Hoddle's ugly mug!", I cried a loud. But he quickly righted himself, and the experiment continued. After I had filled the glass, I sat it down and watched. To my amazement the woodlouse seemed to be having a whail of a time, spinning around, crawling, loving the fake bubbles I added with my trusty straw... Ten minutes later I was bored, and was wondering whether, I should claim success and let him out, carry on with my life and not have to explain the weird new family aquarium. But as I bound over to the glass once more, proclaiming the death of overpriced sea-monkeys and triops, I noticed Bill's body floating motionless near the bottom...

At that moment another woodlouse crawled past. I knew what I must do. In one swift motion I untied my shoelaces...

So, am I evil? Am I... Lous-opher?

 

And THIS is the essay that got you a 2:1 at Uni??

FFS!

It's not even 800 words - and less than half of it is the actual story.

I mean, the government swear blind that they're not giving away qualifications and that standards are higher than ever, but COME ON!

If this was your final submission for a Human Phsychology degree then I'm a Jedi Master!!!

 

You're not Louis Cypher are you, do you look like Robert de Niro?

 

Get off the weed man!

 

Being a young man, I should bloody hope not!

 

My dissertation was nowhere as good as this!

Guess my supervisor was the one on weed Bespoke!

 

Well JPF you're needed for our trip we discussed the other day. So by the power vested in me (I don't have any), I declare innocent of any crime in relation to the "Woodlouse Horror Diaries"