What am I doing sitting at a desk all day wearing a
suit and being polite to people? Genetically I’m a predator and I have a
strong urge to burn down parts of Essex.
It
is an irresolvable conflict and instinct is getting the better of me.
Last week my patience snapped and I went on a rampage, hunting down my
prey as nature indented. I must have shocked the nice people in Marks
& Spencer as I sat in the corner tearing into a precooked chicken
drumstick twin-pack. It’s the closest thing M&S sell to a live
Gazelle.
When I’d finished I ran out with a
female mannequin dressed in beachwear under my arm. That’s the last
thing I remember before waking up a day later in the public park, naked
and shamed, but feeling fulfilled in an animalistic sort of way.
It’s not just me is it?
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