Ok tell me what’s on your mind. How was have you been since we last spoke?
At night when I go to sleep, I hear voices calling me a cunt. Many voices, with different accents, and in different languages, ‘Usted es un coño’, ‘ Þú ert cunto’. Some nights they’re really loud, other nights it’s just a whisper.. ‘Cunt’. ‘Hey Adrian?’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘You’re a’… Well, I don’t have to keep saying it. If it’s in Spanish there’s usually a Spanish styled guitar playing in the background and the abuse is in the form of a melody. Sometimes I dance to it. But these types of voices, they happen to everyone right?
*Awkward, worried look* ‘Ah, yeah, that’s pretty common (in a mental asylum)’.
Sorry I didn’t catch that last bit you said.
Don’t you think it’s strange that no-one has tried to take out George W Bush now he’s no longer president? Not take out on a date, actually take him out (pointing finger to head)’.
What do you mean?
Think about it, now that he’s no longer President the layers of security would have been lowered. I know he still has Secret Service and all, but surely he’s in public some of the time. Surely he’s exposed. All you need is 10 seconds, across the street, an open shot. I don’t understand it *stamps fist on table* Why is he still alive?! I’d cry tears of joy to see that slug bleed. I hope he comes to Europe, I really do. I monitor his schedule. I’ll be there.
*Shrink has stopped taking notes, just stares, worried*
Ah, that look you’re giving me, that’s the look my girlfriend gives me.
During an argument?
No, all the time.
These thought you have, do you share these thoughts with anyone else?
Just the people at work when I start a new contract.
How long are the contracts?
Well, they’re supposed to be a few months, but they always say after a few days that the deadline has been changed and they don’t need me anymore. And they ask me to leave. I tell them they better get an extra layer of security and to stay away from Brixton. I then start dancing to the Spanish song in my head calling me un cunto.
So the voices that degrade you are during the daytime too?
Yeah, well I guess they’re 24 hours’. Sometimes it’s the voice of a cat.
A cat?
Yeah that’s right, a cat.
What does a cats voice sound like?
Deeper than you’d think, kinda like Darth Vader, but deeper, with echoes.
Is it a big cat?
No, that’s the thing, the cat that calls me a cunt is only a kitten.
A kitten, Mmm, interesting. *Writing information down*
Is it happening now?
Are the voices calling you a cunt?
Well, yeah, but that’s just my girlfriend, she’s in the garden outside the window, see?
Oh yeah, hi.
That’s enough now Adrienne, go back to work please. We’ll chat about this later.
Sei una fica cunta Adriano!
She speaks Italian?
Ok adrian, what I want to ask now is…
Pardon me?
I prefer to be called Mutley.
Ok……. Mutley, what I’m going to do now is…
Wait a minute, do you think it’s a problem that I wear my dressing gown as a jacket? Because people have been mentioning it a lot lately, especially at work.
I think we should try and talk about one topic at once, rather than you aggressively darting back and forth.
So you do feel it’s a problem?
It wouldn’t be helping. Do wear clothes under the gown?
Of course! What do you think I am?! Although one time I was running late for a job interview so I only had time to throw on a vest and nothing else. including the gown.
Ok, I think we’re going to have to wrap it up, I’m going to need to refer you to another shrink.
Ok, thanks Dr Varney.
Thanks Mutley, I’ll be in touch.
*Mutley walks outside. A strong wind gushes and blows Mutleys dressing gown, revealing he is not wearing anything underneath, to the screams of pedestrians.
Dr Varney, looking through the window of his office, sighs, and picks up the phone for the mental asylum.
Within minutes a van pulls up beside Mutley, gags him and throws him in the van.
Mutley has gone to get the help he needs.
The End

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