Amazing Bastards' Amazing Column

I'm depressed. That's not surprising considering that for six months of the year us Scots live like pit ponies, confined to the darkness eating turnips. I've considered suicide just for the hope of walking towards some light. I'm depressed and I'm cold. It's been minus two all month and so have I. I suspect my testicles won't descend until they know the grass has started growing again. If I want to see them before April I may have to coax them from my body like two frightened pensioners trapped in an attic. I'm not sure how to do this but I'll give soup and pornography a try. I'm depressed, cold and horny. They say men think about sex every seven seconds. Asafa Powell ran the 100m in 9.74 seconds. Twenty metres from the finishing line was he really thinking 'TITS'? I think this busts the myth conclusively, men do not think about sex every seven tits. Last night I saw a woman so pissed she lay unconscious in the gutter. On closer examination I noticed she was wearing a crucifix around her neck. I was amused that she took her religion seriously enough to wear a cross but not seriously enough to prevent passers-by from viewing her vagina. I'm depressed, cold, horny and poor. I often hear people say they are married to their career. As a stand-up comedian I can't make that sort of commitment. I prefer to meet my career a couple of times a week and fuck it. As marriage goes I think it really is the best way for two people to openly declare to their friends and family - we need some furniture and you're fucking buying it. I'm depressed, cold, horny, poor and cynical. Who wouldn't be when our national heroes are Kenny Richey and John Smeaton? I predict in 2008 we'll see them go on the road as a double act. You can't deny that they would put on a memorable show. One sets fire to a kid, the other kicks it out. I'm depressed, cold, horny, poor, cynical and drunk. Yes, I'm an Amazing Bastard but deep down I'm just like you.