(For NFT Competition, see link - Dark Comedy)

I could see in his eye, he'd said it automatically and was regretting it with every awkward fiber in his body that immediately jerked in a spasm in a belated effort to take back that moment. The side of his tight smiling lip began to quiver in tense worry and anticipation. Had I heard? Would I react or would it be one of those moments he would cringe over for the rest of his evening or possibly even week, but would ultimately leave him feel elated that he'd some how dodged the perilous social interaction that was to come from enquiring into someone's else's well being, who you didn't know and in the most embarrassing of circumstances.

Well, actually...I’m not great. Yeah, yeah I know from the outside everything looks fine and dandy, that’s the worst of it. You think this bear’s got it made – look, a bow-tie! That’s classy, no one who’s wearing a bow tie could be messed up, you know how hard those are to tie.

Well, it’s a clip-on. Yep, and that’s just the start of it. Look into these eyes. Look deep, deep inside. What do you see? Nothing. Exactly, just black cold pits of empty suffering and sorrow, the kind of darkness you’d find inside a person who’s been kicked to the ground again and again by life and every time they get up they just get kicked in the metaphorical nuts again by the cruel dog bitch who messed up his plans to be an international mime sensation.

I was going to have it all - Vegas shows, my name in lights… I’d perfected the pulling a rope, getting out of a box - all the crowd-pleasers…and then fate had to intercede. What happened you might ask, for I seem so rosy-cheeked and cheerful.

Years of working in the service industry have solidified this expression, this gormless look of contentment and the cheeks?

Booze. BOOZE!

I spent years on the street, drinking anything I could. It started off innocently enough - a honey pale ale here, a honey spiced rum there and before you know it I was performing at a medieval times restaurant for mead. Oh the horror, the horror… the things they made me do.

Sob, they made me dance. Dance like the desperate disgusting fool I was. I did what they wanted. I danced my cute butt to bardcore- but not the good kind, the bad ones like Taylor Swift’s Willow and Somebody That I Used To Know. Ohhh God can I ever be forgiven for what I’ve done.

Sniff

But, I’m sorry I digress. Welcome to the Steve Mart-Inn, restaurant bar and grill for the mostly dead, undead and the dead inside, please follow me to be seated.