My Diary Part 2

Monday 5th August
9.30 a.m.
Spent two hours making a small explosive device that sends tiddlywinks flying everywhere. Why, you ask? Well, I've got a really good gag for when it goes off.

12 p.m.
Planted the device outside my so-called best friend, Fat Barry's front door. He's bound to be FUMING when that thing goes off. He'll be picking winks out of his geraniums for weeks. 
He loves his garden. This once, I said, 'Hey, Fat Barry, if you love your garden that much, why don't you like, marry it, or something?' I didn't expect him to actually do it. Have you ever tried making a best man's speech when the bride is a garden?

Doesn't she look lovely, ladies and gents?

1 p.m.
Got fed up of waiting for Fat Barry to arrive, so I went home. Started working on my inventions. My latest one I like to call, 'the paintbrush on a long stick.'

Next stop - Dragons' Den!

1.30 p.m.
Bob from the offy called, wanting to know when I was going to pay my magazine bill. I told him I refused to pay because I'd been subscribing to Better Homes and Gardens for five years, and my house still looks like crap. Bob responded by saying he's going to punch me in the stomach when he sees me. Yeah well, if this cloak of invisibility I'm working on comes off, he'll never catch me.

So far, I have a cape and some Tipp-Ex.

2 p.m.
Wrote some fan mail. I contacted Justin Bieber, Cheryl Cole and Deirdre from Corrie. Surely, at least one of them will send me some money. I mean, Deirdre has to be minted. Look at the tan on her.

Probably best to ignore the bloke on the right.

3 p.m.
Fat Barry called.

FAT BARRY: What's that box on my doorstep?
ME: Dunno.
FAT BARRY: You're lying.
ME: No I'm not.
FAT BARRY: Yeah you are. I can tell when you're lying, because you do your Foghorn Leghorn voice.
ME: Damn it, ah say, damn it.
FAT BARRY: So what is it?
ME: Nothing. Just leave it where it is, I'll come over and explain.

4 p.m.
Put the detonator in my jacket pocket and started walking over to Fat Barry's. I was nearly there when Bob from the offy caught me.
'Oi!' he yelled.
'CLOAK OF INVISIBILITY, ENGAGE!'
'That's just a cape with paint on it!' he said.
'That's where you're wrong. Bob. This is Tipp-Ex,' I said.
'A box of Tipp-Ex went missing from my shop last week,' he said. 'I suppose that was you, wasn't it?'
'Hey, we all make mistakes,' I said. 'And I know a good way of correcting them.'
Bob shook his head and punched me right in the stomach. It didn't even hurt.
'HA HA HA! Your assaults are useless against me!'
Bob shook his hand. 'What the bloody hell have you got in your pocket?'
I gasped. THE DETONATOR!
I turned and ran to Fat Barry's house, but it was too late. The device had exploded. There were tiddlies and winks all over the garden. As predicted, Fat Barry was furious.
'Hey, Fat Barry,' I said. 'I now work in counter terroris-'

I didn't get to say 'm' because he'd punched me in the face. That's what happens when you mess with a guy's wife, I suppose.