My life has been empty and without meaning since Sarah left me and took the kids with her. I filled my days since that woeful night by watching my boxed sets of The Thick of It, the Day Today, and my pirated CDs of that Radio 4 programme he does. It made life just a little more bearable, though not all that bearable because my wife and kids had still left me and taken all the money from our joint account.
After six months the electricity was cut off, and I couldn't watch any more cutting-edge satire. Luckily, I still had the Armando Iannuci Long Handled Shopping Bag that I'd bought Sarah for our ten-year anniversary. She'd unwrapped it, put it in the back of a cupboard and never used it, looked at it or spoken of it again, presumably so as not to expose the picture to sunlight and fade the image thereupon. She treasured that bag at the back of the cupboard.
Well, I thought. If she's going off with the kids and some Iceland Manager from Brent, I'm going to use her precious bag. I popped down to WHSmiths and stocked up on the day's newspapers, determined to provide the satire that NPower were no longer willing to allow my DVD collection to provide.
The newspapers all fit snugly within, and when I returned home I found that the bag was perfect for propping against a half-drunk bottle of Kia Ora and perusing the newspapers with. It was like Armando was there, offering his own unique take on the day's events.
"Oh, bag-Armando," I'd say. "What do you think of this pasty tax business?"
"Well," he'd squeak in response. "If only it was a prat-sy tax, we could tax all the MPs!"
I love bag-Armando now. He sleeps in my bed, where Sarah once lay. He takes up far less room, and he's a lot more receptive to my romantic needs.