Meeting My Hero and My Enemy

Everyone has those odd thoughts don’t they? From time to time, you do – come on don’t you? Whether it be ‘how would I manage without the bendability my knees offer my legs?’ or ‘I think I’m going to murder a load of Norfolk-based prostitutes’ we all have them. The one that I often come back to is how I would react if I walked into a room. Let’s rephrase that, as I know how I react when I walk in a room – I think ‘Am I the only one in here? If not how can I (a) get some attention or (b) make me the only person in the room without these selfish not-giving-me-attention-cunts not devouring my every interesting thought and action as though I was a modern day Jesus. What I mean is, how would I react if I looked up and saw me entering a room. A doppelganger, a clone, a replica; my personality, clothes and memories.

Now I often think that 99% of people I’ve ever met are utter cunts and I don’t view myself to favourably about half of the time. So, odds suggest I would take one look at myself and dismiss myself as a strangely familiar, definitely handsome, cunt. (Yeah, I know how accurate). But, seriously how would I handle it? Would you freak out? Would you instantly consider yourself insane? I am sure for one or two people on the planet their version of insane is being absolutely certain that one day an identical being to themself would walk into a room as though it were the most normal thing in the world, and thus this occurring would make all seem right after years of misery and therapy. But I’m not talking about them mad bastards, I’m talking about this mad bastard.

If we got talking (would small talk be necessary?) surely we would get on? Would my sometimes self-loathing manifest itself in loathing this other Phil? I mean I can be pretty annoying, and my voice….have you heard me? It’s not great, that would grate on me surely. I’ve got used to it from inside my head but when I hear it on a video or phone, Jesus – it’s terrible. Then again, when I’m not loathing me I’m pretty much loving me so this could be amazing – a chance to experience the glory of me in full flow from the non-first-person POV, I could just relax and listen to me go on and on about utter shit. Loving every minute of it, ‘what an intelligent and funny fella’ I’d muse.

How long would the love-in last though? It would get a bit weird when he started touching all my/his/our things. I don’t like people touching my stuff. But I like touching my stuff so he’d be doing it. He’d go on my laptop. Mainly not really doing anything, just idly browsing the internet or reading some article he’d maybe read already a few months ago (I’d know because I did, it was a good article – that Kubrick eh?)…I’d start staring him down with my evilest eyes. He’s fucking ignore me the prick (I would – I’d ignore anybody staring at me, the stupider they are the more it winds them up) and I’d start to get wound up to my limits. “Are you fucking finished on there or what you goggle eyed, fat bastard? [I know what winds him up, ha!] I want to go on it”, I’d scream after reaching the end of my tether because newly created twin was using my/his laptop for five minutes. Come on – it’s mine, why shouldn’t I use it? Five minutes later and I’d be picturing smashing his stupid fucking face, American History X-ing my own mouth on the kerb outside and then jumping on my skull until I was dead because he’d used my computer for 5 minutes when I didn’t even really need to use it. At this point other me would realise it was driving me insane, and because I’m not pure evil he’d cede the laptop too me, admittedly begrudgingly and muttering ‘cunt’ under my breath. When I got the laptop I’d not have anything to look at and check my hotmail that I’d checked half an hour ago before looking at the sale section of HMV for the ninth consecutive day.

Let’s cut to the chase: is wanking this clone off masturbation or a homosexual sex act? How long could we both last before one of said it? We’d probably go about 13 minutes before both saying it simultaneously like people do in romcoms before going “no, no, no you say what you have to say, I insist”. At first it would be jokey, but we’d both be intrigued by the idea – and we’d both know the other one was as well. I mean, we both know the instrument intimately- surely we would get one hell of a tune out of the beast? Or more to the point one of us would. Or wouldn’t. No matter what one of us was turning down, neither of us would do the wanking first. “If I’m going to wank someone’s cock, it’s going to be mine now wank me off you downs syndrome looking bastard”, I’d argue to the selfish bastard. But he wouldn’t, because he’s stubborn. And only looks out for number one. Inevitably, we’d retire to separate rooms before angrily committing the act of onanism.

The day went badly. Pertubed by the lack of any sense of kinship I’d shown myself, annoyed by his stupid daft face, sickened by his voice…and yes bloody frustrated that he wouldn’t wank me off, I would creep into the spare room as he slept (at about 5 in the morning, why doesn’t he go to bed at a reasonable time?) and slowly put a pillow to his face and suffocate him. I’m not sure he put up much of a fight, it was half-hearted at best. He is now in a shallow grave. Or is it me?? Ohhhhhhhhhhh Twilight Zone ending! Der-der-der der-der-der.