Anyway, in light of my earlier post about fulfilling my wish of getting a bespoke suit online (for about the price of a 2 piece glued together combo from TopMan), I thought I would share other deep-seated ambitions with you. Because that’s the caring sharing guy I am. I am going to bore the living snot out of you by imparting little snippets of aspiration. I should start charging for this you know.

Now before you all close the page and go to look at Cambodian midgets wrestling a lion on Youtube or something, let me reassure you this is not going to be the usual list of swimming with dolphins or pissing into the Grand Canyon. Most writers (by which I mean ones who get paid for this stuff) tend to vomit a list of the most self-absorbed crap as a way of subtley pointing out all the pretentious wonderful things they have already done. That’s right, these sneaky hacks are trying to tell you they have lived the most thrilling life and that unless you emulate it to the finest degree, you are a disgrace to humanity and have nullified all evolution since the development of the opposable thumb.

Well I would never be as patronising as that with you. I am patronising in a different way, but I find that people who have to cling on to triumphs of the past so much have sod all imagination or originality for the future. Believe me, some of my ideas are not going to appear in any column of a Daily Mail travel writer!

As ever, please feel free to comment or add your own. Doesn’t matter how mundane or extreme your idea (see below for examples!). Oh, and just because I put these down it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m going to make them happen (just in case Jamie Oliver’s lawyers are reading this):

Get a tattoo: Simple enough, find a nice man or woman with poster paint, needles, and ideally the ability to draw things that look like they are meant to (so not me). But it’s not that simple. Admittedly tattoos as an idea are cool, pure and simple. However, I can not think of something I want branded onto my body for evermore, or even where on my body I’d want it. It’s all well and good getting something on the inside of your forearm so you look like you have been indoctrinated into a secret society of assassins (can’t believe that isn’t on my draft list), but what about when I’m in the office with it showing through my white shirt in front of a client. Will they judge me differently depending on what they can see? How about when I’m 87 and have got bored of seeing some random tribal squiggle every time I put my watch on.?

Life’s not easy. Too many choices, it’s the Western curse. And on top of that you have what I’ll refer to as Sporty Spice Syndrome. When I was a younger version of me, I liked the idea of a Celtic band round my arm. I was very into Celtic stuff in my youth, but more of that another time. What would initially have seemed like a pretty solid choice would have instantly turned to regret once Mel C got this done.

Let’s face it, forever more you’ll be compared to some scrawny Scouse bint who couldn’t even pull a footballer when she was in the most successful pop group ever. You just can’t predict which random numpty will somehow copy you and turn the most ornate and impressive ink-blot into the body-art equivalent of a smiley face. Cunning bastards, all out to get you!

Next up, I want to Lose some weight. Not much detail needed here. Wii fit says I’m obese. I don’t agree, but there’s no disputing that I’m definitely overweight. I’ve already had suit trousers let out at the waist before the arse-seam splits like the San Andreas fault line and reveals my arse to a District Judge. So far, my gym attendance has left a bit to be desired, but I blame work (like every other fat bastard with a job). Measuring myself up for my suit has highlighted the fact I’m no longer fit enough to outrun the Japanese whaling fleets though, to think it’s time to shed the pounds before they harpoon me in my sleep.

On a more humanitarian note, and believe me this is for the greater good of humanity, I would like to Torture Jamie Oliver. Ignoring the fact he’s married with kids, he’s still a smug git famous for cookery. He’s a gobby little herbert (and the fact he’s an Essex boy really doesn’t do him any favours here) whose use of the words “pukka” or “bish-bosh” have marked him for pain and possible death. I have a genuine allergic reaction to him. Anytime his curly-haired pumpkin of a head appears on televisiong I can’t help but swear. This is a problem if I’m at my parents’ place, but if you listen quietly enough you will here the word “twat” being muttered over and over again. Suffice to say, I am boycotting Sainsbury’s.

Torture is a strong word, but I know what I’m doing. Firstly I need to abduct him. No small task, so there’s time to plan whether to go for the Mr Blonde/Reservoir Dogs approach and demonstrate my razor skills, or to browse the Saw series of films for inspiration. Time is on my side!

Moving away from sociopathic tendancies, at least for a little while, I would like to try my hand at Stand-up Comedy. Admittedly this is a bit of an ego trip, but there’s a real appeal to being in front of a group of random strangers with the sole purpose of making them laugh. On here, the aim is more or less the same, but this is anonymous… none of you can yell anything at me mid sentence with the specific intention of belittling me and making me cry. I haven’t got a problem with standing up and trying to get my point approach across to people, as it’s part of my daily life. But in stand-up, it’s people who have paid to come and watch you, and who demand to be amused. Right Now!

Moving back to giving the general impression that I pose a risk to the gentle public, I would like to Get revenge. Unlike the Jamie Oliver thing above, there is a prospect of this happening so best not to go into details as it could be used in evidence. Let’s just say there is a former friend who let me down in the worst ways, and despite my efforts the fat git has chosen where his loyalties lie. Not a problem, or at least it won’t be if I plant my fist in his face. Live and let die, as Paul McCartney once said!

Changing tack a little, and putting a bit of distance between myself and a criminal conviction, and onto something that should definitely happen in 2010. I will be working towards getting my Higher Rights of Audience. This will mean virtually nothing to most readers, so I’ll try and sum it up as efficiently as possible. I am a solicitor, which means I do not have “rights of audience” to conduct advocacy in the Crown Court (where all the more serious offences are dealt with in the English legal system). If I get my Higher Rights, I get to do this.

This should (eventually) lead to more money, and continue my jedi-like progression to being the greatest criminal lawyer in Manchester. It also means I’ll have to shell out a significant amount of cash on a black gown and horsehair wig, so I am able to properly address the Crown Court Judges without being dismissed as an unqualified interloper!

When I do get a wig, I will need a name for it. Given the cost of the little fury bastard, I’m going to treat it like some sort of pet. Feel free to submit suggestions well in advance.

Next, I should probably aim to finish off a number of half-drafted posts on this site, as well as regularly updating the site.  No matter how hard I try, I often struggle to keep even the horoscopes updated. Let’s all hope that 2010 is the year in which I get my arse in gear!

And finally, I would like this site to gain some sort of national notoriety. I want there to be some form of campaign to identify the SmokingMonkey. I shall become a crusader, battling for what’s right and good in the world. A bit like Noel’s HQ, but without being such a preening arrogant plum-sack, who looks like a skinny version of the Million Dollar Man Ted DiBiase (reference for the teenegers there)

and I may already have the perfect campaign in mind…

Anyway, I should really wish you all a Happy New Year. So I will.

Pip-pip!