Bryan
by 
Sian
|
Posted: Thursday, July 31, 2003 Word Count: 1291 Summary: This is basically a character profile of one of the characters in a 'novel' I am working on called "Book of Bitch". Normally I would post something a bit more conventional but this makes me laugh. |
Content Warning
This piece and/or subsequent comments may contain strong language.
This piece and/or subsequent comments may contain strong language.
Ex Am-Dram Student
Name: Bryan Weird
Age: 23
Occupation: Likes to tell people that he is a director of a theatre company. In reality, he works for the Post Office, and still lives with his Mum.
Let me start with the physique. He is very tall and overweight. He hides it remarkably well, but blow me, in the nude he’s bloody awful.
He has an overhanging flabby belly. He has man-breasts with horrible, elastic nipples that point upwards so much that they defy gravity and look as though they are trying to escape his body and fly into space.
He has no chest hair at all, except for a few greasy strands that circle his disturbing nipples. He has womanly hips and his backside is utterly massive. His legs has no shape, they are just thick and big. His body is pasty and pale, and looks like it is made out of cheese.
Naturally this man is unaware of the dreadful state of his body, and is convinced that he is a total Adonis.
He lives in a fantasy world. He cannot tolerate people who are more successful than him (i.e. virtually everyone he meets, ever). He constantly lies about himself to impress people.
He once got a girl to go out with him on the basis that he told her he was a professional actor and playwright. What he failed to tell her was that he did most of his acting when he was studying drama at some low-key polytechnic in East Anglia, and the plays he wrote were part of his homework. He is a postman, and he still lives with his Brunhilda of a mother. Who has spoilt him rotten. Augustus Gloop, eat your heart out.
I read his “plays” once, they were really bad. And overtly misogynistic. I think he had a bad relationship with mum. She might have stopped him eating cake once.
And, the most perplexing thing about this character is that even though he wishes to be a playwright, he doesn’t read literature. This is in the deluded belief that when he finally gets material published it will be “Unadulterated Bryan”.
[Here are a couple of scenarios involving this unfortaunte man]
The Meal
There was one occasion when he came round to his girlfriends house, and she was going to cook a meal. He decided not to talk to her at all. He just stood in the kitchen with a face like a slapped arse and created a horrid atmosphere of stony silence. When she put some music on he turned it off, because he was “thinking”.
After about 15 minutes of this undeserved silent treatment, she snapped. He had been stood by the fridge for ages playing with the magnetic words. She then asked him to leave the house because she was not going to put up with such blatant ignorance. He turned to her with an air of contempt, looked at her down his nose and, after a dramatic pause (for effect), simply said
“I cannot be happy and talking all the time. It is not me. You have no idea. Sometimes I will go off somewhere, go walking in my head, go to places and think, and when I come back I will bring you a gift.”
His left hand indicated what seemed to be a poem on the fridge.
I GIVE YOU NICE CAKE
GAS MAN EAT EGGS
The scary thing was, he was being serious.
Harry Potter
On another occasion he was at Euston Station, in one of the pubs. He insisted on reading excerpts from a Harry Potter novel to the poor girl, with “feeling”. She found the whole event totally embarrassing. Although after a while she felt better because, as he was concentrating on reading her bedtime stories, his bag got stolen. Then he wept.
The Party
His long suffering girlfriend got invited to a party in Islington, and she didn’t invite him. She had only been seeing him for a couple of weeks, and was trying to get rid of him (it was difficult, he was very persistent; he stuck to the sole of her shoe like scanky chewing gum).
He had issues with her going out without him, and kept telling her not to “get off” with anyone else. He also had an irritating habit of addressing her as the third person. He sent the following text messages throughout the course of the evening:
Him: “I don’t want my girlfriend to go to the party; she might meet someone else and leave me. Why did she not invite me? She is going to get off with loads of people”
Her: “She might just do that.”
Him: “Great. Now she’s fucking with my head.”
Her: “No. You are fucking with your own head.”
Him: “She’s right. I’m like a mad hatter in a mad hat! Wibble wobble, I’m mad me!”
Her: “Fuck off.”
Then the phone calls started. She wasn’t answering the phone to him, but had left the phone on so that she could get directions and talk to her mates, etc.
Throughout the course of the evening, he called and left a number of messages. Each one becoming more frantic and irrational than the last. Here are a few:
6.30pm
“Well, my girlfriend is going to a party! Isn’t she lucky? I hope she’ll call me; I want to speak to her before she goes. Hope she has a good time! Call me when you get this message.”
7.15pm
“She hasn’t called me back, I hope she has her phone on her. I just want to talk to my girlfriend and make sure she’s ok! Speak to you soon when you call me back!”
7.50pm
“Isn’t she being difficult to get hold of tonight? Why have you not called me back? Give me a ring as soon as you get this message.”
9.30pm
“OK. So you have your phone switched off. I don’t understand why you’re ignoring me. Oh well. Hope you’re having a good time, give me a ring to let me know how you’re getting on.”
11.45pm
“Pick up the phone! I want to speak to you. I need to speak to my girlfriend!”
01.30am
“You’ve not picked up the phone. You’ve not called me. Where are you? What’s going on? I don’t know who you think you are. Pick up the phone you selfish bitch….Sorry, I didn’t mean that. It’s just, I’m really upset right now. I’m worried about you. Just call me ok? …. Call me. We need to talk.”
Needless to say, she didn’t get back to him after that.
Quotations [nb: the person this is based on actually said these things!]
“Thank God for my big cock.”
“I really like you, and I’m being serious when I tell you this. [deep breath, looks me in the eye] …I think you might even be smarter than me.”
“Call me pretentious, call me arrogant. But, hey, people can’t deal with talent, and I knew more than all of them about acting.”
(N.B this was in reference to a production of A Clockwork Orange, which he directed. The play might have been good, but apparently the whole cast ended up hating him. Furthermore, as a result of the production he lost all his money, his girlfriend left him and he had to move back in with his mum.)
“My best friend, Blue, he’s a Navaho Indian. I met him on the internet. Through him I have access to website of the US government that civilians don’t normally have.”
[N.B this was his mother. She is a conspiracy theorist and evidently spends too much time indoors. I also have issues with people who use the word “civilian” in everyday conversation.]
Name: Bryan Weird
Age: 23
Occupation: Likes to tell people that he is a director of a theatre company. In reality, he works for the Post Office, and still lives with his Mum.
Let me start with the physique. He is very tall and overweight. He hides it remarkably well, but blow me, in the nude he’s bloody awful.
He has an overhanging flabby belly. He has man-breasts with horrible, elastic nipples that point upwards so much that they defy gravity and look as though they are trying to escape his body and fly into space.
He has no chest hair at all, except for a few greasy strands that circle his disturbing nipples. He has womanly hips and his backside is utterly massive. His legs has no shape, they are just thick and big. His body is pasty and pale, and looks like it is made out of cheese.
Naturally this man is unaware of the dreadful state of his body, and is convinced that he is a total Adonis.
He lives in a fantasy world. He cannot tolerate people who are more successful than him (i.e. virtually everyone he meets, ever). He constantly lies about himself to impress people.
He once got a girl to go out with him on the basis that he told her he was a professional actor and playwright. What he failed to tell her was that he did most of his acting when he was studying drama at some low-key polytechnic in East Anglia, and the plays he wrote were part of his homework. He is a postman, and he still lives with his Brunhilda of a mother. Who has spoilt him rotten. Augustus Gloop, eat your heart out.
I read his “plays” once, they were really bad. And overtly misogynistic. I think he had a bad relationship with mum. She might have stopped him eating cake once.
And, the most perplexing thing about this character is that even though he wishes to be a playwright, he doesn’t read literature. This is in the deluded belief that when he finally gets material published it will be “Unadulterated Bryan”.
[Here are a couple of scenarios involving this unfortaunte man]
The Meal
There was one occasion when he came round to his girlfriends house, and she was going to cook a meal. He decided not to talk to her at all. He just stood in the kitchen with a face like a slapped arse and created a horrid atmosphere of stony silence. When she put some music on he turned it off, because he was “thinking”.
After about 15 minutes of this undeserved silent treatment, she snapped. He had been stood by the fridge for ages playing with the magnetic words. She then asked him to leave the house because she was not going to put up with such blatant ignorance. He turned to her with an air of contempt, looked at her down his nose and, after a dramatic pause (for effect), simply said
“I cannot be happy and talking all the time. It is not me. You have no idea. Sometimes I will go off somewhere, go walking in my head, go to places and think, and when I come back I will bring you a gift.”
His left hand indicated what seemed to be a poem on the fridge.
I GIVE YOU NICE CAKE
GAS MAN EAT EGGS
The scary thing was, he was being serious.
Harry Potter
On another occasion he was at Euston Station, in one of the pubs. He insisted on reading excerpts from a Harry Potter novel to the poor girl, with “feeling”. She found the whole event totally embarrassing. Although after a while she felt better because, as he was concentrating on reading her bedtime stories, his bag got stolen. Then he wept.
The Party
His long suffering girlfriend got invited to a party in Islington, and she didn’t invite him. She had only been seeing him for a couple of weeks, and was trying to get rid of him (it was difficult, he was very persistent; he stuck to the sole of her shoe like scanky chewing gum).
He had issues with her going out without him, and kept telling her not to “get off” with anyone else. He also had an irritating habit of addressing her as the third person. He sent the following text messages throughout the course of the evening:
Him: “I don’t want my girlfriend to go to the party; she might meet someone else and leave me. Why did she not invite me? She is going to get off with loads of people”
Her: “She might just do that.”
Him: “Great. Now she’s fucking with my head.”
Her: “No. You are fucking with your own head.”
Him: “She’s right. I’m like a mad hatter in a mad hat! Wibble wobble, I’m mad me!”
Her: “Fuck off.”
Then the phone calls started. She wasn’t answering the phone to him, but had left the phone on so that she could get directions and talk to her mates, etc.
Throughout the course of the evening, he called and left a number of messages. Each one becoming more frantic and irrational than the last. Here are a few:
6.30pm
“Well, my girlfriend is going to a party! Isn’t she lucky? I hope she’ll call me; I want to speak to her before she goes. Hope she has a good time! Call me when you get this message.”
7.15pm
“She hasn’t called me back, I hope she has her phone on her. I just want to talk to my girlfriend and make sure she’s ok! Speak to you soon when you call me back!”
7.50pm
“Isn’t she being difficult to get hold of tonight? Why have you not called me back? Give me a ring as soon as you get this message.”
9.30pm
“OK. So you have your phone switched off. I don’t understand why you’re ignoring me. Oh well. Hope you’re having a good time, give me a ring to let me know how you’re getting on.”
11.45pm
“Pick up the phone! I want to speak to you. I need to speak to my girlfriend!”
01.30am
“You’ve not picked up the phone. You’ve not called me. Where are you? What’s going on? I don’t know who you think you are. Pick up the phone you selfish bitch….Sorry, I didn’t mean that. It’s just, I’m really upset right now. I’m worried about you. Just call me ok? …. Call me. We need to talk.”
Needless to say, she didn’t get back to him after that.
Quotations [nb: the person this is based on actually said these things!]
“Thank God for my big cock.”
“I really like you, and I’m being serious when I tell you this. [deep breath, looks me in the eye] …I think you might even be smarter than me.”
“Call me pretentious, call me arrogant. But, hey, people can’t deal with talent, and I knew more than all of them about acting.”
(N.B this was in reference to a production of A Clockwork Orange, which he directed. The play might have been good, but apparently the whole cast ended up hating him. Furthermore, as a result of the production he lost all his money, his girlfriend left him and he had to move back in with his mum.)
“My best friend, Blue, he’s a Navaho Indian. I met him on the internet. Through him I have access to website of the US government that civilians don’t normally have.”
[N.B this was his mother. She is a conspiracy theorist and evidently spends too much time indoors. I also have issues with people who use the word “civilian” in everyday conversation.]