An aspiring satirist has run out of mildly amusing material in little more than a calendar month, it has emerged. Former spreadsheet curator Rob Flynn, jacked-in his day job and took out a small business loan at the end of February in order make his fortune in the Blogosphere.
‘I thought I was John Cleese’ said the 37 year old, staring anxiously at a red gas bill reminder. ‘I was flying high on 15 Facebook Likes and never even paused to consider that I only actually know about seven or eight funny things, one of which I copied from Bill Bailey and just changed all the names. The response has been terrible, I mean listen to this: Dear Rob, Stop writing to us. We’re not going to have you on the show, so please fuck off. Hope you are well, Paul Merton.’
‘I feel at least partially responsible’ said former colleague, Adrian Sanders. ‘I kept typing ‘lol’ in reply to his ditties and ever expanding monologues thinking it was just a passing fad, until it had gone on for so long that I had no choice but to continue the fiction. I even said he should quit his day job and get on the circuit, I feel terrible. Still, at least whilst he’s writing to the bailiffs his dross isn’t piling up in my inbox. Every cloud eh?’
Ryan’s ‘Comedy Club’ blog opened to rave reviews from his mother and several of his friends, who in reality would have said anything to stop him from choking up their news feeds and soliciting praise for his latest batch of trite, laboured one-liners and abstract stories. Ever more hackneyed and derivative, people began deleting him on social media and pretending to look at their phones in order to avoid him in the street.
Rob’s girlfriend Julie moved out last week. ‘She left this,’ Rob lamented presenting a note: ‘Way to go funny-man, now we can’t afford milk. Hilarious. J’
‘I thought that was a bit harsh and still I don’t regret giving it a go, though I do deeply regret sending my boss the resignation limerick’ he said, covering his eyes with one hand. ‘I’m really going to have to have a go at putting things straight and seeing if I can get my old job back.’ He muttered before clearing his throat; ‘There was a fine boss of name Hunt…’