I had a flatmate we called Jack some years ago. The reason for calling him Jack is detailed elsewhere.

Jack had a girlfriend – equally as stupid as him. Take for example the time that my little sister baked some cookies and posted them to me. In order to stop them from being pulverised by the mail system, and a box full of crumbs turning up, she packed them in those polystyrene bits that resemble cheese twisties. I opened this box and poured the contents out on the table. Jack’s girlfriend walked past and asked what I had received. I told her it was some of my sister’s baking, and asked if she wanted any. She picked up a bit of the polystyrene and took a bite. She immediately screwed up her face and said “She’s not a very good cook is she?”. The stupidity of it shocked me into silence, and I just stood there totally bewildered until she wandered off to inflict her vacuous intelligence on others.

One night, it was about 6pm, and Jack and his lady friend had been in the bedroom for some time, doing about the only thing a non-intelligent couple can do without having to muster a thought. Myself and my other more intelligent flatmates were watching television in an effort to rest our mammoth brains, when suddenly Jack’s bedroom door swung open and out marched Jack wearing next to nothing, with a large lump of wood in his hand, laughing his ass off. A wee while later, his girlfriend stumbles out of his room, roughly dressed, her eyes streaming, and in a particularly foul mood. Jack was still unable to talk through his laughing, and she stormed out of the flat. When Jack finally calmed down, we worked out that in his throes of passion, he was grasping the headboard so tightly and pulling on it, that it snapped off and smashed down into his girlfriend’s face. Needless to say, we didn’t see her for a few days, but when we did, she had two black eyes.

Oh Jack. Where are you now that I can have a good laugh at you?

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