"My Struggle"

By Billy "Mr" Sheen

Written by Mat Growcott,

Parodying 'Mein Kampf' by the biggest

Git in history

 I Billy Sheen have been locked up against my will by the evil, blue, running thing that is sonic the hedgehog, and I thought it was just a game. As I planted the bomb I heard the wind move outside, I looked around, all the guards were knocked out. Staring at the bomb I set the timer, this was the best thought out plan in history I thought to myself as I super glued the bomb to the wall. Just as I stepped away the bomb fell of the wall and hit me on the toe, it wasn't the pain that made me scream, it was the shock, it said on the bottle that it could stick anything to anything.

 As I Billy Sheen sit in this abandoned castle with my fellow scum of the earths (who, while I write this piece of history, are singing Candle in the Wind. Sometimes, I wonder if someone else makes them criminal, they don't have it in them to actually plan something….) I think about the ideas which, given a chance to grow may create a new me, a powerful me, a powerful me which would destroy that evil hedgehog. Actually the castle is quite nice, there are showers, which are a good social spot, there are toilets, which aren't a good social spot; unless your idea of a good social spot is where the music is loud and tuneless and the smell suffocates even the best of us, teenagers between the ages of 15 and 20 go there the most, even non-inmates.

 I, am in the library as we speak, the good thing about this hellhole is that it has a few good books. Lord of the Rings, The complete work of Dickens and most helpful of all is Spot plays with a big red ball, for it teaches all how to hide a big red ball and use it for EVIL!!!

 There is one person whom I can thank for all this glory; His name is Helain Ranscum, a student attempting to become a Doctor in engineering, he'll never do it. His friends call him Robotnik because of the funny little toys he builds. After he discovered of my plan to bomb the ice cream factory, he waddled to the police, who told their newest member, Sonya Hedgkofski, he's fast, but he won't last long; he's trying to mix religion with policing, it won't work because if he ever shoots anyone he'll have to terminate himself…or is that something else? Who cares? I only believe what I can see with my own 2 eyes, and all I can see right now is a poker table, a bottle of wine and a candle, which means tonight is snooker night…

…In 2025 the government banned snooker: because of an accident involving a cue, a ball, a duck and a ham sandwich, I'll allow you to imagine what happened, but now inmates had to find new ways of having as much fun as they used to, potting balls or missing the holes. I never really understood snooker and therefore was bullied in class,

"If you can't pot even one ball," they used to say, "then you're not welcome here." They didn't use those words exactly, but it's too painful to relive the painful days of my troubled youth. Instead I attach an entry from my diary at the age of nine.

"I used to dream that god was a sort of white light, but now I understand that he is an elderly gentleman, possibly carrying a cane or using a Zimmer frame, but that is just a mask, for when you see this gentleman, he falls and justifies you, I believe my tutor, Mr Jack Daniels, is god. He needs a cane yet he is smooth and strong when without it. He is teaching me history, and guess what he started out by reading from the bible,

"William" he said, "one day you will do a bad thing, and you will be punished for it, but don't you forget that when you get out, you will have passed your evilness onto the one whom got you found out in the first place. And in turn he shall pass it on, and on, and one day, you will all be welcome in gods big hole in the sky, for he welcomes all and loves all, even the ugly duckling who, lets face it, everybody hated. And Rudolph is up there as well, playing all his rain deer games"

He is so profound and yet there is a strangeness behind it all, he says things and then forgets who he is, etc…"

Jack Daniels has influenced my life over the years and made me the man I am today, without him my life would have been full of curves, but he made me thing clearly and my life was straight, unlike everyone else.  Instead of avoiding the bushes, dogs and small children I was driving over them, sometimes literally.

The dogs are at the gates now. While I, Billy Sheen, drink champagne, my fellow inmates are happy with urine, sometimes they drink it unnecessarily, and sometimes they drink lager. Not that I'm complaining, I get the wine and champagne; they have the guards urine in a bottle.

I got a letter this morning, it seems that the only way I'm going to get out of here is in a coffin, Jack Daniels lied to me, like I always knew he would. Well, maybe I can get on with my life, even after being dead; I hear the nightclubs under ground of great because there's no sun, so they think its night all day. That was a joke by the way. I will be set alight tomorrow, I would have found out a week ago, if the guards weren't so keen to read our mail. Billy-bob, the hillbilly in cell block 8, still hasn't got the mail from his girlfriend even though the guards have had it a week.

 Billy-bob is nice enough, he misses the taste of rat pie and baby soup. Most of all, he says, he misses the fact that his girlfriend makes the best rabbit ice cream on there mountain. He told me why he was inside once, because he tried to shoot a dog that was stealing an otter-burger, which Billy-bob was eating. Which is fair enough. I once heard that Billy-bob changed his story, apparently you are meant to replace the word dog, with policemen and the word otter-burger with wife. He seemed perfectly civil to me, he showed me a picture of her, she had no teeth marks on her so I think they liked each other really.

I was listening to prison radio today; it is the worst thing in history, with the possible exception of the McDonalds family fun day. The music is all about how the "hay don't burn like it used to" and how "I've got a brand new combine harvester, take a look at the blades". An announcer said that there's a competition to find the best poet and he will get out of prison free. Seven people have come to me today and threatened to kill me if I do not write poetry for each of them, I wouldn't mid as much if 4 of them weren't guards.

Today is the day I'm going to die, I'm going to act brave because if I don't then the fellow inmates will tease me, and I don't want to go like I came in. I don't think it's right that they are setting fire to me; it will really hurt. I heard that Sonya Hedgkofski will be here; I'm looking forward to it. He will quit being a policeman the second that he sees my fire covered body, and I will laugh, from hell I will laugh, because he couldn't take it…

A note from Sonya Hedgkofski

I'd like to say, that this book offers a lot of insight into the criminal mind, it is being published by Billy-Bob Stinkstoat's publishers, because Billy-bob and Billy Sheen were friends. To conclude, I did give up policing, it didn't suit me, I did have fun becoming a super hero though, but that is a different story. So anyway, like I was trying to say before, this book is to be used for educational reasons only, and is NOT to be used as a guide, you have been warned…

A note from the publisher

Ant farm for sale, Ants taste like chicken, 50 pictures of George Washington.

Dedicated to MRS Billy-Bob Stinkstoat, who me and Billy Sheen talked about for many a minute