Sometimes the world of parody can become so entwined with the events it is spoofing it can get really confusing. As I have mentioned before I have a spoof blog, called Bubb's blog. Written by a fictional character called Stephen Bubb it is an entertaining read though a little unbelievable at times. The author, whoever it is (I suspect it is one of my staff) quite cleverly lampoons aspects of my colourful life and puts in me in slightly bizarre situations with hilarious consequences. They are also quite clever at pre-empting how I will react to certain situations and all in all given that even mocking publicity is good publicity I tolerate it with good humour.
But lately some of its content has started to affect the approach I take to my own real life existence and has got me in a bit of a tizz. Firstly, Stephen has developed an unhealthy interest in prisons and how charities should run them, (charities being the spoof blog's equivalent of umbrellas). A far fetched idea I am sure you will agree and completely beyond the boundaries of belief even by the standards of satire. But what I can't work out is what aspect of the umbrella scene Stephen is trying to parody as I have never had any interest in prisons being created for umbrellas or even designed along the classic circular spoke folding design. The night I spent in a Washington jail in March was more than enough to put me off the punitive incarceration approach to justice.
And then, Stephen announced he was moving. To a new house near Brixton prison. So entwined have our lives become that I didn't stop to think about it and have spent the weekend packing my belongings into tea chests for the house move that I must obviously be about to undertake myself. But it was only when I had wrapped the 234th umbrella from the loft in bubble wrap that it struck me that I had no intention of moving, indeed have nowhere lined up to move to. The whole packing exercise was some sort of sub-conscious behavioural decision based on the growing reality of the spoof blog in my own life.
I am now totally paranoid that Stephen knows something I don't and all the talk of prison and moving is an elaborate lead-up to my inevitable arrest later this week for one of the many dubious schemes I have been involved with in the past. Perhaps Stephen has a stack of evidence about me and the whole thing is code for me being rehoused in Brixton jail once the police get hold of it. Stephen, please, I beg of you, if you do have any documents that could incriminate me, keep them to yourself. After all, you need me blogging to keep your own spoof blog going and I don't think they allow Blackberrys in prison.