Sunlight spilled in through gaps in a blind, delivering the summer heat which only served to heighten Michael Parkinson’s hayfever and assorted allergies.
The man himself was lying on the floor in the spare bedroom, which was just something he liked to do on a Sunday afternoon. He was reading an unofficial biography of his life, seeking incongruities he could then use as humorous anecdotes at dinner parties. He did the same with unofficial Parkinson calenders, Parkinson mugs, Parkinson pencil cases and Parkinson carpet tiles.
All of a sudden, Parkinson realised that he was really thirsty.
“I’m really thirsty” he said, as if to confirm suspicion.
He was really thirsty, so thirsty that he began to suspect that such thirst has never been experienced before by a human being, he even began to hullicinate. He witnessed a payslip teaching latin to underpriviledged maltese youth, he witnessed a SIM card eating a lime, and he also witnessed a physical form of math, known as King Mathmatical Matthew.
He pictured himself winning an award for thirst. Parkinson then realised that such awards do not yet exist, and so he would have to found them himself. He would call it Parky’s Parched Persons Awards. He was excited, he could tell because he was foaming at the mouth, eyes and ears. He made for the telephone, but found that he couldn’t…
Parkinson couldn’t move, his legs really hurt.
“My legs really hurt” he said, in the instantly recogniseable voice of the famed yorkshireman.
The same voice has been used to chat to so many famous figures over the years, Muhammad Ali, Muhammad Ali, Muhammad Ali, Muhammad Ali, and David Beckham.
He lifted his head to see what might be causing such pain. Michael Palin was at the base of his bed, with a hammer and chisel, working away at his shinbone, carving a small statuette of George Best.
“Palin!” he cried aloud, in the instantly recogniseable voice of the famed yorkshireman.
The same voice has been used to talk to chat to so many famous figures over the years, Sandra Bullock, Sandra Bullock, Sandra Bullock, Sandra Bullock and Ronnie O’ Sullivan.
Palin raised his head from his work, he was wearing an apron and was surrounded by tools associated with woodcraft. A hammer, a chisel, a wooden mallet, some matches, some canapes, a hessian sack, a woven horse, and some dead wasps in a jar labelled ‘treason treats’…
Palin panicked, and his eyes fell out of his face. Confused, he then began to scurry around on the floor looking for the cool ice blue eyes which have looked upon such sights as The Maldives, The Maldives, The Maldives, The Maldives, The Maldives and John Cleese.
It was at this point that Parkinson took a closer look at the George Best statuette protuding from his shinbone, it was marvelous. It was so life like that Parkinson almost asked;
“So, are you really not going to play football ever again George?”
This question was posed to George Best in an interview in 1973.
Confused, and still suffering from the height of thirst, Parkinson rolled over to the corner of the room. Water ran down the curtain there, which originates from a leak in the roof. Parkinson liked to lay there, underneath the curtain, sometimes for several hours, with his mouth open, letting the rainwater drip into his mouth and onto his frail dry face.
Parkinson was thirsty no longer.
The newly quenched Parky stood up, and looked out of the window and laughed to himself. He was happy in retirement, but knew that mysterious events would often be afoot.
He then turned around, and began to kick the shit out of Michael Palin.
