The Tipstaff

When you are in court all day, like I am, your mind does often wander off towards subjects that are not strictly of the legal variety. I try to listen to counsel and make it learn me in the law trade, but its terribly difficult, you see. Because of them eels. They've gotten into me noggin, and they're always swimming around in there, talking to me, distracting me and things.

Its true that I've got a predisposition to the eels. It's been the case ever since I lost that bloody bet to Palki and got all infected with thread worms. (I had to go to counselling for such a long time after that because everyone said Palki wasn't real- ha! But really – if Palki was just my imaginary friend, then what, I had just smeared myself all over with faeces and was fellating a dog for no reason? Anyway, I know that Dr. Fictor believed in Palki because whenever I had a session without my Mum he would say so when he kissed my ear.)

So what happened was that Palki, that darned fool, had gotten the turds from the backpacker hostel so of course they were going to be all wormy. And I knew it even before they went rushing for my every orifice, quick little buggers. Palki was no good, just sitting back laughing and calling me "spaghetti head". Bloody idiot. Most of them came out with the medicine but they were determined to make my bowels their home. I caught some of them crawling back up the toilet walls. I felt sorry for them so I let them back in. They don't bother me so much, the threadies, apart from the itchy arse but its a nice kind of itch. I've got names for them.

Those eels, they're another thing. I'll be just sitting in court listening to the barrister cross-examine the witness and all of a sudden his wig, with its tight little white coils of hair will start writhing around all squirmy like. Moving around, weaving in and out of one another. Its a bed of baby eels on his head. And its happening to the other barrister too. I try to look away at the Judge but His Honour's wig has turned into a swarming mass of eel as well. They just carry on as if nothing is the problem but the eels are crawling down their faces coming after me.

Palki always tries to get me out of this mess, god bless him. Just as the eels are wriggling their way down their faces, he storms into the courtroom with a naked Japanese girl. (She looks awfully scared but you can't say anything when they're just trying to help.) And he's got her all tied up with rope and has a tennis ball in her mouth, all taped up so she doesn't disturb the Judge. He parks her right up next to me and tries to intercept the eels before they enter my ears. At first he's picking them off one-by-one and popping them into a funnel inserted into Ms. Fumiko's bum. But then he's just shovelling them in, you know. Cause there's so many of them.

I have to admit, I do like watching that part. Her little tummy filling up with eels. But as soon as I feel my todger firming with excitement, the first stray eel has gotten past my guard and is in my ear going for my brain. Then another. Then more. And by the time I've dispatched my seed into the inside pocket of my tipstaff's coat, my brain is dense with eels.

Oh and they're talking eels, I said that, didn't I? But I can't usually make out what they are saying, just random swear words. One time I did manage to isolate the voice of one eel, a senior one I think, and tried to speak to him. I asked him why they have to invade me everyday. He said it was because I am the prophet of Onan and soon to be the sacred vessel of the Wormchilde. One day the Commander will give the order and the Army D'Unagi (as they call themselves) will make their way violently down through my body, by way of any physiological passage they can use, to mate with their cousins in my bowels - the threadies!

So its all Palki's fault in the end - the person who caused me to be worm-ridden by using his low-grade backpacker poo. Sometimes I think he does these things on purpose. I would say that I hate him... if it weren't for the fact that I love him so very much.