A man goes into the pub, you know the type of pub: the type of pub where jokes are born. It is flat rooved and smells something of stale booze. The man goes in, takes a seat at the bar and orders a pint of bitter, it's a normal bitter, just the local stuff - not too bad, not too great: just average, the bitter that jokes are made of. The guy, being on his own, and being a stranger to this pub, has a look around, and sees a guy that takes his attention.
"Mate", the guy says to the bar man, "why does that man have a head like an orange?"
"Oh, that's Jim, one of the regulars, buy him a few drinks and I'm sure he'll tell you the tale of how he got his citrusy head."
The bar man looks up, gets the eye of Jim and beckons him over.
"Jim, this guy", he says, "wants to know the story of your miraculous orangey head."
Jim takes the seat next to our protaganist and looks at him.
"Joe", Jim says to the bar man (for that is the barman's name), "can you get me a pint of whatever he's having and a whisky chaser. This guy'll pay you."
Joe brings the drinks over and wanders off to polish the pint glasses.
"Ah, where do I begin?" says Jim, "I suppose I should start with the death of my mother, for that's where it begins: with mum's death. She died about three years ago, just keeled over and died, right there. I took care of the funeral arrangements, you know, selling the house and all that stuff."
"Jim, are you going to get to the point? How did you get to the citrus head bit?"
"Don't interrupt, I'll get there soon enough. Right, so, I sold the house soon after the funeral. i obviously had to clear it out before we could complete the sale, I had to sell all that stuff too. Her loft was more full than you'll ever believe, it was just full of stuff constantly, she was always adding to it, bric a brac, broken stuff, she was a bit of a hoarder see - always buying anything at the jumble.
'All in a good cause" she used to say, although she never really wanted any of it.
The first day I was up there I wept, cried and cried, just seeing it and thinking of her: all this stuff was her. But, pretty soon I put feelings aside, I got to the job in hand, which was clearing up all the mess in the loft. I packed for days and days. Just putting it all into box after box after box. Eventually I got to the end of it all, the last few bits and bobs; there were five things left: a stuffed robin, a small birdcage, a motorbike helmet, two candle sticks and a lamp. I'll always remember those five things, as they seem so disconnected from each other: anyway, the lamp. Do you know which kind I mean? Like a panto kind - not a table lamp or whatever - but a dusty old paraffin lamp. I rubbed it, more out of interest than anything else; perhaps inevitably it went woosh, a plume of smoke came out, and a tubby old arabian man flew out.
'Right, you know the drill, I've done this a million times, and you lot have read arabian nights' the guy said, 'you have three wishes. You can't wish for more wishes, you can't wish for people to fall in love with you, and because I'm a bit peeved that you woke me up, you have until midnight tomorrow to use them, or else they're all null and void.'
Wow, I said to him, that's really generous of you. This puts me into a real metaphysical dilemma, because I'm a rationalist I can't believe in genies and fairies and stuff, but ta.
'I'm not a fairy, what are you implying?'
Anyway, I took my first wish. I'd like billions I said, all the money in the world. I want to be so rich that I can solve all of Africa's problems, cancel their debt and still have enough that I can have a golden house.
'I'm pretty sure that's a logical impossibility, as cancelling the debt might really screw up the global economy. But, I'll give it a try.'
So, try he did, I checked my bank balance then and there: it had more zeros on the end of it than I could comprehend. I cancelled the debt, was still richer than Bill Gates and bought myself a golden house. You might be able to see it, it's up there on the hill.
The genie, who i found out was called Dave, went back into the lamp to bed, as he was: 'fecking knackered', or so he said. I was left to mull over all of my thoughts. With all this money, I couldn't think of anything else I wanted to have at the moment.
The next morning, i rubbed the lamp again.
"Right Jim, what can I get you?" he said
World peace, I answered.
'Done. Wow Jim, all of the complex political and economic questions of our age are really answered quite easily - just a little bit of magic and problems go away. So much for the enlightenment and all that progress. See you later.'
I watched the news. it was unprecedented: all that was on the news were those bits and the end, you know with water-skiing squirrels and donkeys that can talk French and stuff. There was no more war, so everyone was just hugging. I watched footage of Iraqis and Americans just having a nice old cuddle. kurds were walking hand in hand with turks. I'm sure you noticed it when all that war stopped."
"Oh yeah", said our man in the bar, "I remember that day, it was all a bit weird. i baked a cake for my neighbour. I can't believe that all of this stuff was caused by you. i've always looked at the golden house and thought: who owns that? Where did they get all the money fot the gold? Is it plated or is it solid gold? But, still, you haven't really explained what I wanted you to. And with all that money, surely you can pay for the pint?"
"I only want conversation, I'll buy all of your pints for the night, for the rest of your life if you want. It is solid gold, yeah: the knocker's made of platinum, but the rest is gold. Right, back to the story. With all that hugging and stuff, I got really distracted for the rest of the day. Do you remember the sing song when everyone held hands and sang songs like 'love can build a bridge?' That took fecking hours. It really absorbed all my time, harmonising is a real effort. Anyway, the day drew in and I went home, if only for a shower. As I was showering Dave appeared.
'Right, Jim, it's 11:59, you've got 27 seconds to decide, or else you'll lose your golden house, this golden shower, and all the peace.'
'Dave, I'm nude, and it's not a 'golden shower', it is a shower made of gold. Don't call it that again.
'10, 9, 8, 7' he said. He'd really caught me on the fly, and I panicked. I don't know why I said it."
Jim paused and sipped his pint, he licked his lips to build up the suspension.
"Jim, for goodness sake, you're killing me here." our wandering hero asked.
"Well... I just said... I don't know why I said it... I couldn't help myself, it was all a spur of the moment thing"
"WHAT? Arrrghh, you're killing me, i really need to pee."
"Well... I just said: 'I've always wondered what it'd be like to have a head like an orange."
