Come to daddy

WOOOO, my valentine's date video grossed a total of 25€!! Now if only I lived in Tanzania it would be worth a years pay and I would be able to buy all the sacks of flour and buckets of polluted water I wanted. But I don't. So what do I do instead?

Last night I phoned daddy.

Some of you might already know that my father is the most loving, stable and reliable person in the world who loves me just the way I am. uuh, yeah.

I tried the following:

1. Asking nicely
2. Asking more forcefully
3. Begging
4. Screaming that he is 4 months behind on the payments the lovely IB-groep makes him pay me.
5. Screaming that I will hire lawyers and lay claim on my estate
6. Hanging up telling him that If I die of starvation or nicotine deprivation it is his fault and he will feel guilty the rest of his life.

I checked my bank account this morning, there was still nothing on it. I did receive a text on my cellphone: You can always come and stay with daddy for a couple of days.



Coming to daddy would have the same effect on me as taking the subway, getting out in the middle of the Bijlmer, (a shady neighbourhood in Amsterdam) scream that I'm gay and wait until I get shot, raped, beat up or attacked by a pack of pitbulls owned by a 50 cent wannabe.

I don't have money for the train fair anyway.


(video: Aphex twin-Come to Daddy, directed by the talented Mr. Chris Cunningham)