I don’t care if she’s got an undiagnosed mental problem. She shouldn’t inflict her Jekyll and Hyde persona on me. I don’t appreciate being physically attacked & my things being stolen and damaged. With no provocation. That’s the worst part. That I get all this shit for no reason.
People keep thinking that the scars on my arms are self-inflicted. They’re not. They’re all a little memento from her.
Don't you hate it when a parent starts an argument with you for no real reason?
Like when I wanted to type up my ‘100 Greatest Books’ list from the Observer. My twat of a father couldn’t fathom why I didn’t just print off the page. I just didn’t want to. And anyway, I wanted a detailed list (authors, dates, etc.)
So then he starts saying I’m time-wasting & that I’ll be “out on my arse” (or words to that effect) & that he can’t wait to chuck me out the moment I turn 18. I hear this a lot. And I hate him for it.
"Did you know that when Fred and George Weasley bewitched snowballs to bounce off the back of Professor Quirrell's turban in the winter of the 1991–1992 school year, they were unknowingly hitting Voldemort in the face?"
I've been ridiculously creative of late. For example...
I’ve made up a character called Artemis Smail. Yep. He’s just less than 5ft tall (but still manages to be menacing), aged 35, walks with a cane, wears a monocle on his right eye (in a foolish attempt to disguise his blindness in said eye) and has jet black hair cascading out his head, stopping abruptly halfway down “as though it is unsure whether or not it should continue”. He also happens to be highly intelligent (if as that wasn’t already obvious).
His sidekick and longtime friend (Smail prefers loyal manservant) Edward Thaxton, 28, is the polar opposite of Smail. He is an “Adonis”, tall and athletic, as he is a stout believer in good health and all it’s benefits. Blonde curls frisson effortlessly out of his perfectly formed head; his features are pleasing to the eye, and he has many female admirers (the running joke here is that he much prefers male company *coughs* and has to fob off various society ladies when they try to make a pass at him). In his 21st year, he purchased (with some of his inheritance) an exact replica of Michelangelo’s statue of David; it now resides in his rooms at The Walnut Grove Hotel. His imposing height is of significant help to Smail, who uses it to his own advantage, ie. “cutting swathes through the crowded streets of 1850s London”.
There. I’ve managed to use every stereotype in the book. But I still like my characters.
I hope I didn’t make it too obvious that I’ve based Edward’s outward appearance on Tom Hiddleston.