The shit blog of Paul Chris Jones

Dear Diary. The diet is working. I've lost three kilos of weight in the past week alone. I have to drill a hole in my belt because my trousers are threatening to fall down. Girlfriend says she can't watch while I'm drilling this hole because she's worried I'm going to drill into my fingers.

The other day I was eating puffed quinoa with a spoon and Girlfriend saw me, and I said, "Being on a diet is hard." I said as I was like spooning this quinoa into my mouth. She laughed. I didn't mean it as a joke.

4-year-old and I had a good morning. He woke up at half seven, I had a good night's sleep so I felt refreshed. We made cherry jam and pancakes. I've never made jam before but it's really easy. Anyone can do it: even me and a four-year-old.

4-year-old tipped all the box of fridge magnets all over the floor and I said you're going to have to pick those up, I said to him. And he did actually picked them all up. It's good.

*****

At 3:20 pm I have an appointment at the hair transplant clinic. It's the six-month check-up appointment. I suppose now is when I'll find out if I'm eligible for another transplant to cover the hole in the hair on the back of my head, this is the moment.

Okay, I just had the meeting, says so far everything's going well with my hair. I wanted to ask him about the big bald patch at the back but in the end, I chickened out because I didn't want to hurt his feelings or make it seem like he has done a bad job. So maybe I'll ask him at the next appointment three months from now. He's added some more things to my medication, something called minoxidil and L-cysteine whatever that is, some vitamin he said. He had a look at my hair under his special camera and it was weird. You could see my hair close up. I was afraid that he would move the camera and suddenly there'll be a big insect chewing away my scalp but thankfully we didn't see any scary insects.

*****

My sister Corryn wants me to go to Butlins with her this August. She says Stephen Mulhern will be there.

"What's a Stephen Mulhern?" I ask. It must be some child who's been famous for five minutes for spinning plates with a dog or something.

I google "Stephen Mulhern".

Hang on. That's the guy from CITV! The presenter. You know, the magician one. He's the CITV magician presenter!

He's actually quite famous. I'm impressed.

Well, I'll definitely go to Butlins if Stephen Mulhern's going to be there. Imagine going to the same toilet as Stephen Mulhern! There he is, taking a piss at the urinal! You walk up to the urinal next to his, unzip your fly and start pissing, all the while sneaking surreptitious glances at his penis. Is it big? Is it little? I bet it's little. I'm certain Stephen Mulhern's got a little willy.

Well, there's only one way to find out: by going to Butlins. (That's a lie. I bet there are loads of ways to find out the size of Stephen Mulhern's penis. I can already think of six.)

• Hire an escort to seduce Stephen Mulhern into bed. Then ask the escort how big/small his willy was.
• Pretend to be a builder and install a secret spycam in his bathroom
• Join his gym and wait for him to get undressed in the changing room
• Buy the house opposite his and then use high-powered binoculars to spy on Stephen Mulhern while he's taking a shower
• Offer him a free ball-waxing session
• Simply ask him how big his willy is

Anyway, we'd all better enjoy frivolous entertainment like Butlins while we still can, because, by this time next year, we'll be fighting Daleks and terminators sent by Russia to take over Europe. Butlins will be an irradiated wasteland, nuked by Russia early on in the war to destroy British morale.

I'll be in a trench, exchanging gunfire with North Korean cyborgs. By an amazing coincidence, Stephen Mulhern will be in the same trench as mine.

"Can't you do some magic to get us out of here?" I'll shout over the noise of machine fire and exploding bombs.

"Sorry, I only do tricks," Stephen Mulhern will say.

"You're bloody useless, Mulhern," I'll say, disgusted. "You're going over the top first."