My Dear Americans, The film you are about to see is a biopic of my life. The events take place, not so long ago, in a proud land called Wales. Wales is next to England, a country you pretend to treat as an equal. My homeland has produced Catherine Zeta-Jones, Tom Jones and some other people. You have not yet invaded my country and for this I thank you. Submarine is an important film. Watch it with respect. Fond regards from your protagonist, Oliver Tate.
Her new boyfriend has an incredibly long neck. Just thinking about giraffes makes me angry.
I took a photo of us, mid-embrace. When I am old and alone I will remember that I once held something truly beautiful.
Dear Jordana. Thank you for letting me explore your perfect body. I could drink your blood, you are the only person that I would allow to be shrunken down to a microscopic size and swim inside me in a tiny submersible machine. We have lost our virginity but it wasn’t like losing anything. You are too good for me, you are too good for anyone. Sincerely, Oliver.
Jordana hates any place that could be termed romantic. With this in mind, I took her to one of my favourite industrial estates, for some quality one-on-one time.
I suppose it won’t matter when I’m 38, but I’m upset about it.
To us and a wonderful evening of love making.
My mother is worried I have mental problems. I found a book about teenage paranoid delusions during a routine search of my parents’ bedroom.
Jordana and I enjoyed an atavistic, glorious fortnight of lovemakin’; humiliatin’ teachers and bullying the weak. I have already turned these moments into the Super-8 footage of memory.
We sat down to have what might have been Jordana’s mother’s last Christmas dinner, which i hope it wasn’t because the turkey was a bit dry and the sprouts were soggy and out of focus.
I decided to soften the blow with some light arson.
I knew then it was too late to save her. She’d gone gooey in the middle. From now on she’ll buy little gifts for her favourite teachers and she’ll admire the scenery and she’ll buy soup for homeless people. And she’ll never burn my leg here again.
Dad, who would you save first in a house fire given the hypothetical situation that both mum and I were equally difficult to save?
He wasn’t even considered hard until the Watkin twins famously stabbed him in the back with compasses. He said nothing; showed no discomfort as his shirt blossomed with blood poppies. His stoicism reminded me of the brave men who died in the First World War.
Well, you know, I thought it would be nice to get some mutual interests… now that we’ve had sex… other than spitting and setting things on fire.
