Thursday 19th January – Oooops!!

My life sucks.

My job’s a joke, I’m broke and my love life’s definitely been declared D.O.A.

Sigh.

Still, I guess it could be worse, look at that crazy dude they left in charge of the Costa Concordia, he seems to be having a really bad week.

I know that ‘officially’ I should be outraged, and I suppose on a lot of levels I am but, (and it’s a big hairy Silvio Berlusconi, bunga-bunga sized but) I don’t think it was his premeditated intention to put the lives of his four thousand passengers at risk.

I’m sure that boats (and that) have sea-maps that they’re supposed to follow but hello, hasn’t anyone seen that bit in Top Gun when loose-cannon ‘Maverick’ does the control tower fly-by and the controller-man drops his tea?

Twice.

I think that Captain Schettino was aiming for a jaunty ‘Ciao Bella look-a atta my huge-a ship-a you-a donna have-a huge-a ship-a’ which I am guessing he’d hoped would end with the inhabitants of Giglio clapping, cheering and exclaiming how Cappy-S was sooo money-supermarket.

Instead of going down as the legend of epic hilariousness that he was hoping for, Captain-Capsize now looks like a bit of a giant sized, douche-bag.

Undeterred by the violent listing of the boat he was standing on and not content with orchestrating the worst thought out sail-by in the history of, well, sailing, he then ambled down to the bar where he cheerfully went on to make it a double-header by also sinking few glasses of vino, as he waited for the life-rafts to turn up.

Salut!

It sounds like things didn’t get much better after that because he then, having gotten himself all liquored up, fell off the boat.

Unlike many of the unfortunate passengers however, he didn’t fall off the fourth deck into the rock-strewn, probably shark infested water, he plopped straight into a lifeboat.

Around this point, the lifeguard man on shore got a bit vexed with Captain-Capsize and told him to ‘get back on board you total dick’ but, and this seems to be the thing that really ruined Cappy-C’s day, he couldn’t because it was, by this time getting a bit dark.

Furthermore, his socks were wet.

No, Captain-Capsize was eager to get off home by that time and given that he’d probably got a bit of a hangover and his socks were wringing wet, who can blame him. As working days go, his had been pretty brutal.

So I really shouldn’t moan at my lot because, as my Mum always says, there really is nothing worse than wet socks.

Apparently she wasn’t lying.

Damp feet can get pretty frigging real.