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Today I attempted to begin selecting what I’m going to take with me. This consisted of piling most of my clothes on my bed into two piles. The piles were “take” and “leave”. This didn’t go too well and all I achieved was that it became impossible to see the wall and I became confused where one pile started and the other finished.

So I took the only option. I put them all away again into big cardboard boxes.

Now my mind is numb and I can’t think of much to write. So, I’ll tell a joke instead. You’ve probably heard it before as it’s the only joke I can remember properly…

Judge Matthew Jones was having a hard day in court. He’d had a particularly stressful succession of delinquants before him and their lawyers had drawn out proceedings, making his job extremely tiresome. Court overran slightly and he had a lot of paperwork to catch up on afterwards which he’d been putting off for weeks.

Half way through the day, Judge Jones decided that, as a reward for this terrible day, he would visit the pub opposite the law courts before making his way home, for a rewarding pint. After he’d done all of his papers for the day, he threw on his jacket and marched straight into the pub and tucked into a pint, with a whisky chaser.

One drink led to another, and before long the judge was completely plastered. He was finally asked to leave by the slightly embarresed barman at closing time, when he stumbled his way to the train station, arriving just as the last train home pulled in.

He somehow stumbled onto the right train and slumped into his seat. As the train rocked gently on the 20 minute journey to his hometown in the suburbs, judge Matthew was violently ill. Down the front of his suit.

During a fortuitous lucid period, he managed to get off at the correct stop, and meandered the five minute walk to his large detached house in around fifteen minutes. When he arrived at the door, he almost tripped on the front step and battled manfully to get his key into the lock. After a couple of minutes of swinging his key in the general direction, he managed to get the door unlocked, and swung it a little too hard, but nevertheless, not loud enough to wake his wife who was sleeping upstairs.

He made his way straight upstairs, toddler fashion, and tiptoed as best he could into his bedroom. Slightly more sober, he remembered the mess he’d made of his clothing and went into the bathroom to undress, throwing his suit and undergarments in a heap in the corner of the tiled room. He gave his teeth a cursory brush and splashed a bit of aftershave on to hide the boozy odour he was surely emitting.

He sneaked back into his room, and got into bed, his wife hardly stirring. “safe” he thought.

In the morning, judge Matthew awoke to his wife discovering the sorry state of his clothing of the night before.

“Matthew” she shrieked, “what on earth happened last night?”

“well…” the judge said, climbing out of bed with a thick head, “I, er, had to work late, and missed the 9 o’clock train,” thinking on his feet now, he added “so I had to get the last train with all the drunks.” He developed his lie skilfully, “some yobs were on there causing a great scene, and I went to tell them to behave. Unfortunately, one of them vomitted all down my front.”

“That’s disgusting!” his wife exclaimed, “really, I hope you called the police!”

“well, you see, there’s no need,” the judge was thinking far more clearly now that his wife had safely bought his initial story, “all three of them I recognised as having been in court a couple of weeks ago, when they were found guilty of an affray. They are due in for sentencing today, as it happens, and I was going to give them community service. I decided I’d give them a year a piece!” he finished, slightly triumphantly.

“Make sure you do” his wife responded, “they’ve ruined your suit and tie. Honestly, I don’t think it will wash out!”

So, the judge went off to court that day, and, rather fortunately, there was a group due in for sentencing who were deserving of a years imprisonment. They could be his scapegoats. He decided that he’d go straight home after court finished, and swerve the pub this evening, to score some browny points with Mrs Jones. In any case, he still felt rather unwell.

When he arrived home, shortly after six o’clock, he announced to his wife, perhaps a little too quickly, “oh, you remember those yobs who spoiled my clothes?”

“of course I do, I had to take your suit to the cleaners today” she sighed.

“Well, they came into court and I gave them the harshest sentence I possibly could: one year in prison. I think that should settle the score somewhat!” He grinned.

“Not really” his wife retorted, “I would have given them life!”

“Now that is a little harsh, don’t you think?” the judge commented.

His wife took a long, hard, look at him and responded, “Not really. They shit your pants as well.”