Simon Says...

Long ago there was a wood and in this wood there was a house and in this house there was a window and by this window was a man. A cruel man with a kindly face. And he was to be named Simon. There are no nice men in the world named Simon. That is a fact. This is a tale about one such man; Simon Cowell.



Oh come on. I'm not such a bad guy. Did I infuriate a nation with my remarks on various reality TV shows? Yes. Did I go to America and introduce the same fucking shit programme over there to make more money? Yes. Do I like the colour blue? No. I prefer black. Black makes me look more masculine. Masculinity suits me. So does my trousers that I keep belted up to my moobs. Could I get rid of these man-boobs? Probably, but I can't be assed to work up a sweat in the gym when I'm so Goddamn handsome and rich. Do I have the shittest haircut ever created. I might well have considering no one I have ever met has had the same cut and I've met a lot of scubs. Do I both ask and answer my own questions. Yes. Because no one else wants to talk to me because I am a Simon. The worst kind of Simon there is. A Cowell.



As Simon said these words time shifted slightly and the sea crashed against the rocks by the shore and life was born anew. If only for an hour...