Taking a real day off — profound joy! by Hugh Emmental

Hugh Emmental
Nov 3 · 4 min read

Yesterday, England was playing South Africa in what I was reliably informed was a very important game of rugby.

My friends, Hugh Emmental is not a sportsman. Try as I might (and goodness knows I have been forced to in the past) I never could quite master the art of basic co-ordination or competence of any sort. Not to worry — “fuck exercise,” says Hugh!

As a boy I was made to go out into cold, muddy fields and crash into much larger so-called boys who, for all intents and purposes, were in fact large men. I found the whole thing profoundly baffling. “What the heck is going on?”, I would often say. But I gradually got the hang of at least some of the rules and found that, actually, I could appreciate this “rugby”.

To clarify, the young Hugh would have at any given moment much preferred to be in a park drinking simply hideous cider and being a general youth. Indeed, I could hardly fucking run, let alone possess any kind of strength or resilience. I did not enjoy it. But I got it.

I appear to have gone off on something of a tangent. Typical Hugh!

There was a reason I mentioned my youth: it was my very mild appreciation of that oval-shaped-ball-based game that swung it for me yesterday. I left the house at 8:30 AM on a Saturday.

Hugh Emmental does not take such drastic measures lightly. Saturday usually provides me with the perfect way to recover from the trauma of the incessant outside world to which I am subjected Monday through Friday.

But yesterday, Emmental withdrew from bed. He fried some eggs (which were duly eaten) and he was off! To the pub! At 9 o’clock!

I only really ever drink three things: coffee (from 8am-5pm), Guinness (6pm onwards) and, occasionally, water. I threw caution and my unofficial schedule to the wind. Emmental was liberated from the bounds of societal norms and acceptable behaviour!

The English team was, as far as I could tell, simply awful. But things like that don’t phase Mr. E. They just don’t make him tick. Anyway, he was preoccupied by sinking pints (and, humorously, espresso martinis).

Aside from a brief interlude for a sober family lunch, I continued to drink Guinness, and be drunk, and say stupid shit, until returning home at 4 am.

As I write this, I feel almost entirely brain dead. I am increasingly hangover-prone, but I currently feel particularly incapable of doing almost anything.

But it was well worth it — I completely removed myself from the pressures and constraints of ordinary life to just be pissed all day with dear friends.

Not only did I mentally escape from work, I also managed to avoid any political developments.

Hugh Emmental can only be described as a political obsessive. He follows as much as he possibly can with a worrying determination. He cares and has opinions, but he also just loves the circus.

But everything has its limit — even my love for the circus of it all.

We are fast entering the general election zone. This means that I will find every political actor unbelievably insufferable. Although we have been in tumult for some time now (oh, to return to the pre-2016 era), in a GE politicians appear to make a particular effort to make yo dislike them.

Lib Dem leaflets have already arrived at Emmental Manors, replete with a totally misleading bar chart. All the party will do for the next week is refer to Labour as a “pro-Brexit party” — obviously not true — and make ridiculous claims about how they’re going to fucking win the election. Which they’re not. They have to do it, but goodness is it irritating!

Labour is already making it clear that they’re going to run a divisive, populist campaign. It’s likely that this will be filled with some quite flashy-sounding policies that don’t actually serve to help the poorest.

Emmental met a Labour MP the other day and was struck by said MP’s claim that the party had to, and would, launch some quite personal attacks on Boris Johnson and those around him, even giving some examples. Friends, Mr. E is concerned. We need to tone down the rhetoric, I find it most distasteful and deeply concerning.

Then we come to our rather disagreeable prime minister and his worryingly right-wing cabinet figures. Hugh Emmental is no Tory — but this lot are really bad news. Seeing more of them is not something I’m keen on.

I usually can’t help myself — I can’t stop thinking about it all, I do care, and I am fascinated.

But that’s why I so enjoyed a rare day like yesterday — full liberation for Hugh! Freed from all the bullshit, free from responsibility! Vive le Hugh libre!

The working week is set to resume without remorse. Hugh Emmental returns to his box and becomes a reliable and responsible person.

But he will rise again.

Hugh Emmental x

Hugh Emmental

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